Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/727321.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Rape/Non-Con,
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      The_Hobbit_(2012), The_Hobbit_-_All_Media_Types, The_Hobbit_(Jackson
      Movies), The_Hobbit_-_J._R._R._Tolkien
  Relationship:
      Dwalin/Fíli, Fíli/Thorin_Oakenshield, Fíli/Kíli
  Character:
      Fíli, Dwalin, Thorin_Oakenshield, Kíli, Balin, Thranduil, Legolas, Bilbo
      Baggins, Thorin's_Companions, Dís, Tauriel, Dáin_Ironfoot
  Additional Tags:
      Rape, Violence, Domestic_Violence, Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, Suicide
      Attempt, Non_Consensual, Soul_Bond, Dom/sub
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-03-19 Completed: 2013-08-16 Chapters: 44/44 Words: 142941
****** Of Love and Avarice ******
by Universal_Acid
Summary
     When dwarves mate, it is for life. A special empathetic bond is
     forged between them and they become like two halves of the same
     person.
     After Fili inconveniently comes of age on the quest to reclaim the
     Lonely Mountain, Dwalin sees an opportunity to take what inheritance
     has denied to him: The throne of Erebor. He rapes Fili to claim him
     as his mate, with devastating consequences for the Line of Durin.
      
     Written for The Hobbit Kink Meme - the link to the prompt and my
     original partial fill are in the notes.
     Trigger Warnings and Disclaimer: Please note that this story contains
     graphic descriptions of rape, violence, psychological torture, and
     emotional abuse. The underage tag refers to a 77-year old dwarf who
     is, by dwarvish standards, still an adolescent but very close to the
     age of consent. I do not condone the use of violence or the
     sexualization of human minors and understand that this is a work of
     fiction. All rights and privileges belong to their licensed,
     respective owners. This is written solely for personal reasons and
     not for profit.
Notes
     This is a response to the following Hobbit Kink Meme prompt:
     "For Dwarves, having sex is basically like mating, once have sex with
     another Dwarf, you become part of them, almost as if you were
     married. This is an older dwarf tradition, that seems to still
     exsist.
     Dwalin sees an opportunity when it comes to the Heirs of the Throne,
     and let's his greed take over him. Fili. He wants Fili, but more so
     he wants the throne from Thorin. He sees the slight protective nature
     of Fili to Kili and gives him the ultimate, either he will bed his
     brother or Fili should just give himself over to Dwalin's bed.
     Fili agrees, not wanting the younger Kili to be forced into anything,
     and besides, he believes he could handle it. Dwalin rapes Fili rough
     and hard, claiming him for his own. Once he's his, he let everyone
     know.
     Fili puts on a front, pretending he wanted it, that they would be
     happy and perfect, but Thorin is not convinced. He is a lot more
     protective of Fili than anyone else.
     Dwalin pushes Fili around, now that he has dominated the heir,
     proving himself the stronger of the two in the relationship, forcing
     Fili to sumbit whenever he wants, telling him when to go to sleep,
     what to cook, how to act, when he should and shouldn't speak.
     Finally Thorin sees something that he cannot push aside anymore, and
     attacks Dwalin for it.
     Thorin/Fili if you would like :]"
      
     The fill will be posted in completion here instead of on the Kink
     Meme. You can find the prompt, associated comments, and my original
     (less polished and unfinished) fill at this_link.
     ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
***** Chapter 1 *****
Since the morning that they had set out from Bag End, Fili was all that anyone
could seem to talk about. He wasn’t very fond of being the center of attention,
and quite frankly, he would be happy when the entire ordeal was over.
Fili had known for many years that in the life of every young dwarf, a certain
rite of passage occurred that thrust him over the final barrier to adulthood.
While most other things about dwarves took decades to mature, adult sexuality
first appeared and then was set all within the span of a few months. It would
start with the first expulsion of a young dwarf’s seed, usually while he slept.
Women flowered. The first of sensual pleasures came with the first seed or
flower, but it was more important as a herald of an impending storm of sexual
awakening to come within the season. The heat, they called it. The compulsion
to consummate was regarded as one of the strongest sensations of a dwarf’s
life. The heat could last as long as a fortnight and grew more intense the
longer it ran its course, but it would lessen with the height of climax. Still,
nothing truly broke it except the arms of another dwarf.
Though the heat happened only once and some dwarves could ride the torture
until the need had passed, that usually involved a chains and a well-locked
cell deep within a mountain. For Fili, that was not an option. When he had
awoken that night in Bilbo Baggins’ home as his body thrust him into the
antechamber of adulthood, he knew that he would inevitably be bedding one of
his dwarvish companions. Which one it would be, however, was of great concern
to Fili. This was especially true because the first dwarf one bedded was
invariably his last, and one could not change his decision. The first act of
sex was a fundamental part of dwarvish sexuality, and had a permanent effect on
both dwarves involved. Whereas men could forget their first and could mate two,
three, four, or more together like beasts, or mated Elves could become
estranged, dwarves were altogether different. When two dwarves mated, their
souls were forged into one.
Some dwarves like Ori found the whole thing romantic. Fili thought it was poor
design at best. At worse, it could be dangerous. The risk could be high for a
dwarf in the interim between his first seed and heat, for he was vulnerable to
the lusts of others and to the naïve whims of his own heart. If Fili was to
choose his mate before his body chose for him, he would have no option but to
choose one in present company.
Most seemed more than happy to oblige. When he had slipped into his interim,
the unmated dwarves in the company had become like moths drawn to his sudden
light. He hadn’t even needed Kili’s help in announcing it to everyone (which
his brother did, quite loudly, that first morning at the breakfast table).
Instead, the dwarves all seemed to sense his sudden sexual maturity and now
seemed to stumble over themselves just to catch his affection.
After several weeks on the road, Fili had had it up to his eyes with the
constant attention. They all wanted him, he knew. And loathe as he was to admit
it, Fili wanted them all too.
Now that his desires had awoken, they were indiscriminate. One dwarf looked as
appealing as the next. Had there been dwarvish maidens in the company he would
have yearned for them, too. The unmated dwarves seemed to make him a little
weak in the knees. Sometimes, if he caught a dwarf shifting his body in just
the right way or running fingers through thick hair or a braided beard, Fili
went half hard in his trousers and flushed with embarrassment.
His physical desire for half the company and the very real threat of his
looming heat made him yearn to choose a mate, but he still had enough wits
about him to not rush the decision. The lover he chose would be his Cherished
One, and they would share a soul, for better or for worse. Even after one dwarf
died, the share soul lived on in the body of the living half until he joined
his mate in death.
Fili didn’t have to be a genius to know it meant that he would never again be
truly, completely alone.
To say that Fili felt anxious whenever he gave it thought only began to capture
it.
Yet as dwarves went, Fili was patient. He diligently considered his options.
Each eligible dwarf was given careful analysis as Fili weighed their strength,
their wisdom, and their honor. He watched how they treated their brothers. He
also paid close attention to how they treated him.
Ori had knitted him four pairs of socks, a tunic, two ridiculously floppy hats,
and was now working on a pair of mittens. Bofur’s usual comic wit had been lost
in a bashful silence, but he had given Fili flowers every morning since Bag
End. And Fili had lost count of how often he had looked up only to catch Dwalin
silently staring at him, undressing him with his eyes. Even Thorin, whom Fili
knew was unmated but would have otherwise never expected to still be chaste,
became less sullen whenever Fili was around.
By the time they had reached Rivendell, Fili had considered every dwarf in turn
twice or three times over. Only Thorin lingered in his mind as a genuine
prospect. Fili looked up to his uncle and had always loved him. Thorin was even
rather handsome, unusually so as dwarves went. He had the look of Durin’s line
and the grace of nobility that surpassed the baser lineages. But whatever
thoughts Fili had nurtured about being Thorin’s mate, the idea of approaching
him about it felt so outside the bounds of propriety that he still had yet to
ask.
And so, he stalled. He put it off until he could figure out how to broach the
question by averting his eyes around his uncle and subduing the fluttering in
his belly. To distract himself he sought refuge where he could: He stayed in
the company of mated and widowed dwarves who had as much interest in mating
with Fili as they did in in bedding an elf; and he spent time with his brother.
Through the whole ordeal, Kili remained his usual self. He was too young for
his first seed and thus had no interest whatsoever in sexuality beyond poking
fun at it. It had started almost immediately: They had shared a bed since Kili
had been big enough to toddle, and when Fili had been rudely awakened by the
blinding pleasure of his first seed, Kili had awoken too. The rascal had taken
one look, squawked in a fit of laughter, and had not let Fili live it down
since. Yet Kili was his brother and his closest friend, and still made the best
company when he wasn’t being a pile of orc dung about Fili’s condition.
With some sadness, Fili considered that once he had found his mate, his
relationship with Kili would cease to be the dominant one in his life. It had
made the last few weeks precious. Fili and Kili had spent as much time together
as they could, sharing their last of their years together as dwarflings before
the realities of life took Fili away, as they did everyone except those who
died young.
And so it was that each night Fili and Kili took their watches together, or
they snuck away from the company to enjoy the last of their shared childhood.
Tonight, in Rivendell, they slipped through the Elvish gardens toward the falls
beneath the House of Elrond. The falls were high and noisy, and Fili took
comfort in the way the water shrouded all but its own sound.
* * * * *
From a hall within Elrond’s home, Thorin watched his nephews depart towards the
river. Long after they had disappeared out of sight, he took up his usual
nighttime contemplation by the fireplace. It had become a part of his life now
to mull things over at night. But lately, instead of nursing the deep-seated
wounds of the past, he could not get his maturing nephew off his mind.
He recalled his own heat, its timing, and how he had dispelled it. It hadn’t
involved a goat or a sheep and thus had seemed like a good idea at the time.
But now, it was an old memory and a bitter one, too. He hoped that for Fili,
the memory of it would be sweeter.
He watched the flames dance as he thought, and he did not see the eyes that
watched him.
Something had changed as Fili has entered his interim. Now, it seemed that the
lad could do no wrong. When he had come to Thorin first with his questions
about the process and had even asked if Thorin would keep with tradition and
choose Fili’s mate, it had taken all of Thorin’s willpower to not offer himself
right then and there. Thorin kept the ways of their people in most things, but
in this he ultimately felt that the choice should fall upon the dwarf to be
mated. For Fili, Thorin hoped it would mean that when the heat finally took
him, he would run aching to the arms of his new mate and together they would
quell his need.
“It seems that Fili is on everyone’s mind, including yours.”
Thorin looked up and saw Balin, his old friend and advisor, approaching.
“How do you know I’m not just thinking about how to string up Elrond by his
ears?”
“Because you are a gracious guest, if not a surly one. And I’ve been where you
are now.” Balin joined him near him by the fire. “I remember when I met my
Oris. She had just flowered, and I had never seen such a beautiful dwarvish
girl in my life. Little red beard, rosy cheeks, ah…” He smiled fondly with the
memory. “But that’s how it always is. An uncoupled dwarf, if he makes it
through the heat, is always attracted to one in the interim.”
“Aye, I see it in the company,” Thorin nodded. “Many yearn for Fili, even if
they try to hide it. I only hope he chooses his mate in sound mind before his
body makes the choice for him.”
“Fili grows closer to his time every day, and still he has not chosen. Perhaps
you should reconsider choosing his mate.”
“I trust Fili to make his own choice as he sees fit.”
“It is not the way of it.”
Balin held fast to his traditions. Thorin admired that about Balin, but in this
instance he could not agree with his old friend.
“Fili is a smart lad,” Thorin said. “He is responsible, and looks after himself
and his troublesome brother. I do not doubt that Fili will choose wisely for
himself in this. He will choose one who will love him.”
“Love is like a tree. It starts small with that first night and grows strong
over a lifetime, nurtured through the bond between souls. One cannot find his
mate based on the flighty passion of his youth.” Balin shook his white head.
“If left to choose for love, I fear that Fili will choose poorly.”
“If you were King in my stead, who would you choose for him?”
“Oh, it is not my place to say.”
Though Balin shook his head, Thorin could sense that he had been honored to be
asked.
“I ask this of you as a friend, not as your King.”
“Dwalin has always been fond of your nephews.” Balin rubbed his beard in
thought. “But my brother has a certain darkness at times that, I fear, might
cloud out Fili’s light. Dori is strong and intelligent, and he shares Fili’s
joy for life. Though I would worry about his status. He is not of Durin’s line,
not even by a distant branch. It’s a shame that Oin is old and as deaf as your
Oakenshield.”
“By the time we figure this out, Fili will have chosen a mate from the physical
need alone.”
“There is no ideal option,” Balin sighed. “Except one.”
“Who?” Thorin peered at Balin, who grinned back.
“You.”
“Me?” Thorin raised his eyebrows. He mulled over the possibility before
responding. “I must admit, the thought is not unwelcome, even if I ignore… my
desire for him. I have loved Fili since he was a child. Now that he is grown, I
find that I love him more, and in a different manner. He is a good lad, and
kind, and just. And he’s more responsible than his brother. I saw all this when
I named him my heir.”
“And with you there as his mate, he will learn to rule with strength as well as
benevolence.”
“Were I to ask him, he may think I am taking advantage of my authority over
him.”
“Fili loves you already. If I had to wager, I would say Fili has wanted to ask
you, but is afraid of overstepping his bounds. He is very loyal to you, Thorin.
But because he looks up to you as he does, he will never approach you about so
consequential and personal a matter.”
Thorin was silent a long moment. He considered a life with Fili at his side as
his Cherished One. The thought was kind indeed. “Perhaps I will ask him then.”
Balin’s half-grin grew into a beaming smile. He gave Thorin a hearty thump on
the back. “That is a fine idea!” He stood and crossed to the foodstuffs and
uncorked a cask of ale. “I think we should have a drink.”
“He’s not said yes yet, Balin.”
“Ah, but he will. Just ask him. In fact,” He poured two foamy mugs of beer,
handed one to Thorin, and rejoined his friend by the fire. “You should ask him
tonight.”
"It's late," Thorin laughed softly. He gave a small and hopeful smile as he
considered the future, then took a sip of his beer. “In the morning.”
 
* * * * *
 
From an unseen vantage point on a balcony in the hall, Dwalin watched as the
two dwarves enjoyed their drinks by the fire. He let his head fall back against
a wall and let out a silent, worried sigh.
Since Fili had entered his interim, Dwalin had found himself consumed with lust
and had listened in on anything that suggested who Fili might take as his mate.
Dwalin had hoped Fili would choose him.
He wanted Fili, yes, but the knowledge of the dowry that came with him was
almost more attractive than the lad himself.
But now, Dwalin was furious. Thorin was going to keep everything to himself,
the boy and the gold and the throne, and Balin was going to help him do it. His
own brother had betrayed him. Under his breath Dwalin cursed them both and
clenched his fists until they ached.
He had not planned to stake a claim, but now he knew he had no other choice. If
he was going to take what he wanted, he had to do it now.
***** Chapter 2 *****
Dwalin silently ducked away into the gardens and made his way back to the
company. He looked for the brothers in the room they shared, but found only
their empty bed. He fumed. Where was his golden prize when the crucial time was
at hand?
He searched throughout the house but Fili and Kili were nowhere to be seen. At
one point he noticed that Ori had fallen asleep with his back propped against a
pillar and now snored softly with his jaw slack. Dwalin thought briefly to
stick a spider in his mouth, but refrained. Instead he made his way toward the
river, on the hunt. As he walked the sound of the waterfall grew louder, and
eventually he could hear the twin laughs to a joke he was not privy to. He
smiled nonetheless, and picked up speed.
“Fili!” Dwalin called when he came to the shore.
The brothers sat side by side on a bench near the river, feet swinging. The
falls were some distance downstream, but the water was still swift and Dwalin
had to yell to be heard. When the lads heard his voice, they turned to regard
him with friendly smiles. Naïve smiles. He approached them.
“Ah, and Kili,” Dwalin said. “Inseparable as always.”
“Mister Dwalin,” Kili said brightly.
“Dwalin,” Fili said.
“We’d have thought you’d be asleep.”
“I was,” Dwalin said. “But we’re with the elves, now. I have a hard time
sleepin’ in enemy lands.”
“The elves aren’t truly the enemy, are they?” Fili squinted at Dwalin, who
looked strong and stoic in the silver moonlight, and he ignored the sudden
flush of warmth in his cheeks. “I mean, of course Thorin hates them, and with
his reasons. But Elrond has treated us well enough.”
“I’d not trust any elf,” Dwalin warned. “They are treacherous creatures. It’s
all the more reason for you lads to stay back with the company. You never know
when you might be ambushed.”
“Ah, no need to worry about us,” Kili said. “We’re not exactly surrounded by
trees right here. We’d see ‘em coming.”
“Would you? You did not see me.” Dwalin took a seat next to Fili and inhaled
heavily as if in thought, but in truth he just wanted to catch the scent of his
quarry. Then he looked around at the moonlit surroundings. “The full moon gives
good light. But everything’s silver, and the shadows provide cover. And the
sound o’ the falls would mask the noise of an attack. No one would hear it if
the enemy had a bit o’ fun with you.”
“Dwalin, don’t scare the baby,” Fili laughed. He jostled his brother. Kili
elbowed him.
“Well, you might be right, lads. Elrond’s given us hospitality; he’d risk a war
if he attacked us as his guests. Just the same, it’s best you head back to the
others.” He stood. “Morning’s in a few hours, and you don’t want to be
unrested.”
Kili grumbled, but at Fili’s look the younger brother fell silent. They stood.
Fili dusted himself off and smoothed his tunic where Kili had elbowed him.
Dwalin watched and concealed his hunger. Then the three started away from the
river.
As they reached the path, Dwalin stopped and cleared his throat. “Kili, lad?”
When Kili turned back, Dwalin said, “I wonder if you could go along ahead. I’d
like to speak with your brother.”
This time Fili turned. The look in his eyes said that he knew what the
conversation would be about and that he was sick of hearing it.
Kili’s mouth twisted into a mischievous grin. “Gonna get another lecture about
the way you’ll swoon with desire and fall quivering into your lover’s arms?”
Kili feigned a simpering sigh.
It was Fili’s turn to elbow his brother. “Dwalin, I’ve heard it. I’ve been
hearing it from this troll ” – He hooked his arm around Kili’s neck and
knuckled his protesting brother’s scalp – “since we left The Shire.”
“You haven’t heard my words on it.” Dwalin said. “I’d be appreciative if you’d
hear me out.”
Fili narrowed his eyes at Dwalin, but trusted him and the flutter of desire in
his own heart. He released his brother. “Go on, Kili. We’ll be along in a bit.”
Kili sniggered, but he went on ahead. He sang a loud taunt as he left:
“A dwarven princess fair first blossomed in the night
And searched for her beloved prince beneath the lantern light!
Instead, the princess found a swaggerin’ miner just by chance!
She found him irresistible and jumped right into his pants!”
Kili’s voice faded after the first verse until it was little more than a bawdy
melody. Soon, it was lost beneath the sound of the falls. Fili shook his head
after his brother and turned back to Dwalin.
“You think he’d leave me alone about it already.” He regarded Dwalin, who
looked back at him pensively. “I really don’t know what else you can tell me.
I’ve heard it all about twenty times by now.”
“Like I said, you haven’t heard my words on it.” Dwalin placed his big palm on
a tree, level with Fili’s face. He was a good head taller than Fili, and he
used it to his advantage to lean in and over him. Now when he breathed in, he
genuinely did pick up on Fili’s scent.
Fili furrowed his brow a little. Something felt off, but he made no move to
back away. “All right, then.” Fili held up his hands, inviting Dwalin to say
his piece. “Though I doubt you’re going to say anything that surprises me.”
“You’re on the cusp of adulthood, lad. You’ve probably felt a bit o’ desire
here and there for another dwarf. Maybe your heart’s been flutterin’ in your
chest for one in particular. But that doesn’t compare to how it is when the
heat is on you. You might just fuck anything that moves. Sometimes a dwarf’ll
take it out on a sheep or a pig to quench the need.”
“That’s disgusting,” Fili curled his lip at the thought. He suddenly had the
very distinct feeling that he shouldn’t be alone with Dwalin. He turned to
leave but Dwalin grabbed his arm. “Let me go,” he said, voice rising. He tried
to pull his arm free but Dwalin gripped him like a vice.
“An animal gets rid of the need, but fuck a dwarf when you’re in the heat of
the moment, and BAM!” Dwalin slammed his hand hard against the tree and
relished Fili's flinch. “You’ve given up your chastity and you’re bound heart
and soul to a dwarf you hardly knew. You feel what he feels; you know what goes
on behind those eyes of his.”
“Let me go!” Fili shouted it this time.
“Not yet. You’ve been surrounded by a company of dwarves when you’re about to
enter adulthood, tempting us.” Something strange and eerily menacing lurked in
Dwalin’s eyes. “You’ve been torturin’ us for weeks now. I think it’s time you
chose your mate, or the choice will be made for you.”
The dual meaning of the words hit Fili like a punch to the stomach.
He had to get out of there. Now.
Fili kicked backwards and with his free hand, whipped a throwing axe from his
boot. He sliced fiercely at Dwalin with it. Dwalin dodged the attack, then
caught the little axe in his fist. He ignored the blood as the blade dug into
his fingers and he bashed Fili’s hand against the tree. He slammed Fili’s hand
again hard on the bark until Fili lost his grip on the throwing axe. The blade
fell with a clatter to the ground. Dwalin kept Fili’s hand tightly closed in
his. Fili kicked at Dwalin and struck him in the belly. Dwalin grunted and his
grip slipped on Fili’s arm. With his hand now free, Fili swung a punch at
Dwalin’s face. Dwalin dodged that, too. Dwalin was too good a fighter, Fili
suddenly realized. Fili would never defeat him in hand-to-hand combat.
When Dwalin struck him, the swift backhand to Fili’s face sent him spinning to
the ground. Dwalin was on him then. And Dwalin was very strong. He grabbed Fili
by his jerkin and pulled him up onto his knees on the stone path. He drove a
knee sharply into Fili’s stomach. Fili groaned and doubled over as pain burst
in his belly. He saw stars. Suddenly he felt Dwalin’s fist in his braids. A
sharp jerk pulled him upwards, off balance. Dwalin caught his arm a second time
and pulled him close. He pulled Fili to his feet and spun him round so that his
back was pressed against Dwalin’s chest. Then Dwalin jerked Fili’s captured arm
upwards behind Fili’s back. He tightened his grip until Fili’s breath hitched
in pain.
With his free hand Fili groped for one of his swords, but Dwalin grabbed that
arm too and twisted it up beside the first. He then stripped his struggling
quarry of his weapons: The twin falchions, the three remaining throwing axes,
and the daggers sheathed in each vambrace all were thrown to the ground. Dwalin
kept one dagger though, and held it to Fili’s throat.
Fili stilled a little at the feel of the metal against his chin. He screamed
for help. “Kili!”
“He’s not going to hear you, lad!” Dwalin pressed his mouth up against Fili’s
ear and pulled the lobe into his mouth. He sucked harder as Fili fought him.
Then he bit down until he tasted blood.
“Fuck you! Let me go!”
Fili kicked his boot back and up, aiming for Dwalin’s groin. He missed and hit
the kneecap instead. That only pissed Dwalin off more. The grip on his arms
tightened. Fili thrashed in Dwalin’s arms. Dwalin easily kept hold of him, and
laughed as he dodged the worst of the kicks.
Dwalin sliced the knife into Fili’s neck. Pain seared through Fili where the
muscle met the base of his skull. He screamed as blood gushed hot and sticky
down from behind his ear. A dark stain grew on the fabric at his neck and
shoulder, ruining the brocade collar of his shirt. It hurt badly. But the gash
had missed the major vessels, and Fili knew it would not be fatal.
It was a warning.
Before Fili could regain his bearings, Dwalin was dragging him back to the
ground. Fili growled furiously as Dwalin forced him down and pinned him to the
stones with his weight. Dwalin threw the knife away and grabbed Fili’s wrists.
He forced them together in a hefty fist and pinned Fili’s hands above his head.
Fili continued to scream. The waterfall consumed the sound of his voice. No one
would hear him, he soon realized. Moisture broke out along his brow, and soon
he was coated in a film of sweat. He fought until he was exhausted. Dwalin
managed to hold him fast. Fili thrashed some more.
Dwalin kissed him then, sloppy and sickening on his neck and cheek and mouth.
Fili gritted his teeth and fought harder, but his muscles had begun to tremble.
“Mmmm,” Dwalin murmured against Fili’s skin. Between their bodies, Dwalin was
hard. “You taste good.”
“Get off me!” Fili’s voice felt ragged in his throat.
“I’ve wanted you and all that you have for longer than you can remember.”
Dwalin suckled Fili’s ear, and Fili’s yell sounded more like a desperate cry.
“When your father slopped you up into your mother’s cunt, I knew you’d be
Thorin’s heir. I wanted to woo you, Fili, but you wouldn’t let me. So be it.
I’ll take you if I need to. And Thorin’s gold, his power – the throne of Erebor
itself! – all of it will be mine.”
“You’re doing this for” – Fili gasped in disbelief. “For gold?”
“Rape carries a death sentence among our people. But I want you, and what you
have, so I’m willing to risk it.”
Fili’s eyes widened. Mahal, no… “Let me go!” He howled. Fili had trusted Dwalin
for his whole life, but now felt as if his friend had sunk a knife into his
back. “Please, Dwalin!”
“No,” Dwalin murmured against Fili’s jaw line. Fili wrenched his head away but
Dwalin’s mouth followed him. “You belong to me now.”
Fili cried out as Dwalin grabbed his legs and forced them open. Dwalin pressed
his groin into Fili’s until it hurt. Dwalin then ground his belt buckle into
Fili and a sharp bloom of pain accompanied by a wave of nausea flooded Fili’s
pelvis and radiated up through his belly. He fought through the pain, but
Dwalin held him firm. Fili was strong, but Dwalin was stronger, heavier, and
had decades of war behind him. And as much as Fili fought back, Dwalin kept him
pinned. Fili fought as hard as he could, growing desperate. But it was no use.
He was never going to win against this. His sickening dread grew with every
gasping breath.
“Dwalin! Don’t do this!”
“I could take Kili, instead,” Dwalin breathed. “He’s next in line to the
throne. Though he’s a little… young.”
“You leave him alone!” Fili’s voice had dropped to a hiss.
“Dwarves die on expeditions. Tainted meat sickens the company but it kills one,
just one. Or maybe a tragic slip off the edge of a cliff, and a golden prince
is reduced to a splatter o’ bones and guts on the rocks below.” Dwalin knotted
his fist in Fili’s hair and forced his head back, exposing his blood-soaked
neck. Dwalin mouthed Fili's throat and reveled in his thumping pulse. “Then
skinny, stubbly Kili is Thorin’s heir. And he is so very trusting of Mister
Dwalin.”
“You’re sick,” Fili spat. His fear had become acid in his veins. “You are
fucking mad.”
“Perhaps. It makes no difference. I know what I want and how to get it. If you
play along and do as I say, I’ll leave Kili alone. But disobey me, and I’ll
hurt him. And you.” He kissed Fili’s neck in a mockery of tenderness. “Now, lie
still.”
There is no way out of this.
Fili was trembling. He did not remember when he had started to shake. Now he
could not stop. He still fought, but each kick was weaker than the last and
only seemed to make Dwalin harder. Take control, take control, he told himself,
but his strength was failing. His breath was short and shallow and his lungs
ached. His neck throbbed and was sticky with blood. Every muscle in his body
was burning and had tightened for what he knew would be the worst experience of
his life.
He gasped for breath and swore not to give in. He would never resign himself to
this.
But sooner or later, his body got the better of him and he could fight no more.
Eventually, he could breathe again. He swallowed thickly when his struggling
ceased.
“That’s a good lad.” Dwalin undid his britches and let his cock fall out heavy
against Fili’s belly. He tore at Fili’s laces and pressed a sickening kiss to
Fili’s closed mouth.
When Fili didn’t fight, Dwalin released his wrists and went to pull off Fili’s
boots. He yanked one of Fili’s legs out of his trousers and forced his limbs
apart. The cold air made everything draw up close to Fili’s body.
Fili closed his eyes and listened to his heart thumping in his ears, the rhythm
of the river, anything but Dwalin’s deep and hungry breathing. Dwalin
positioned himself between Fili’s thighs and with a husky growl he hoisted
Fili’s legs up around his waist and pressed against him, flesh to flesh.
When Dwalin tried to force his way in dry, Fili gasped in pain. He pushed at
Dwalin’s face and chest but Dwalin grabbed his hands again and forced them to
the stone.
Then Dwalin rubbed his hand upon the bloody wound on Fili’s neck, and Fili
cried out against the stinging pain. Dwalin pressed his slicked fingers against
Fili’s opening, which this time gave way beneath the pressure. Dwalin pushed
his digits roughly into Fili.
Fili shuddered in horror and in pain. He curled his fingers against the stone
walkway, but found nothing to hold on to. He bit back his cry this time and
tried to keep fighting, but his muscles failed him.
“Tight,” Dwalin whispered. “So tight…”
Dwalin moved his thick fingers. Fili began to spasm around them. Tears stung in
his eyes. Then the sensation slowly became more bearable, but it still hurt.
Everything hurt everywhere, but nothing compared to that.
And it was all so wrong.
Then, the fingers were gone. Fili’s breath caught in his chest as he felt
Dwalin press against his entrance once more. Dwalin gave no warning as he
ground into Fili. He slipped at first and hit painfully upon Fili’s tailbone.
Fili gave a sob and began to shake. Dwalin shifted his weight, tried again, and
this time hit his mark.
Agony ripped through Fili. Something tore. Dwalin filled him.
“It hurts!” Fili shrieked. ”Stop, please!”
Dwalin paid him no heed. He pushed deeper inside until he was in to the hilt.
He shuddered in pleasure, buried in Fili’s warmth.
“Ah,” Dwalin groaned. “I never… it’s so good!”
Fili grabbed hold of Dwalin’s shoulders. He arched his back and pushed against
Dwalin’s chest but nothing helped. Nothing could stop this. Dwalin thrusted
then, and again. Fili was crying now.
“That’s…” Dwalin was lost in his own world. He pumped hard and out-of-rhythm,
and only for his own satisfaction. “Aye… Oh!”
Fili knew that he could have been a corpse and Dwalin would fuck him like this.
Dwalin groaned low in his throat. His thrusts grew more erratic and he grunted
loudly with pleasure until Fili felt waves of liquid warmth cut through the
pain inside him. He knew then that the seed was sown.
Spent, Dwalin abruptly slipped out, and they gasped together.
Dwalin collapsed atop Fili.
In his inexperience, Dwalin had finished quickly. To Fili, it had lasted an
age.
Something inside him, something vital, had changed. It felt like being made
whole while simultaneously being broken into pieces.
At last, Dwalin broke the silence. “You are my mate, and I am yours.”
Even though Dwalin had barely murmured the words, they rang out like a hammer
on an anvil. Fili felt an overwhelming compulsion to repeat them. He resisted.
If he said it, the consummation would be complete. He clamped his lower lip
between his teeth. Somehow he knew that couldn’t hold back forever.
“In the mornin’, you’ll make it known to the company who you’ve chosen as your
mate. Do you understand me?”
Fili said nothing. Dwalin struck him hard across the face.
“Do you understand me?!”
Fili stifled his gasp by biting down harder on his lip. He tasted blood. At
last, he gave a weak nod.
“Say it.”
“I understand you,” Fili whispered. The other words begged to be spoken.
“Louder.”
“I understand you!”
“Say the words.” When Fili stayed silent, Dwalin whispered, “Think of Kili.”
“You are my mate, and I am yours.”
Something seemed to open in the deep recesses of his being. Then he could feel
Dwalin within him. Dwalin was in his mind.
Fili could feel the consuming lust and ever-present greed like it was his own.
Dwalin’s madness was there, too. It churned in him now like a looming black
cloud, menacing and built from decades of compounded hate and jealousy.
For the first time in his life, Fili was truly terrified.
He closed his eyes and lay very still beneath his mate.
It did not bear thinking, just what thoughts of his Dwalin now felt.
Dwalin grinned. He licked his lips as he tasted Fili’s emotion like gold and
honey within him. The sensation was overwhelming, thrilling. Fili’s terror
thumped in him like a drum, but Dwalin’s triumph was like the bellow of a war
horn that drowned out the sound of the enemy. Dwalin could feel their war of
wills in his own head, and knew that Fili would still struggle in spirit, if
not in body, for a long time to come.
The thought of breaking Fili again into what he wanted the lad to be – pliant,
submissive, obedient – was enough to rekindle Dwalin’s passion. He positioned
himself once more between Fili’s unresisting thighs, and he groaned in pleasure
and completeness as he pushed his way back inside.
This was mating, and he loved it.
As Dwalin thrust inside him again, Fili tried to build a wall around the
violation. It was useless. Fili could feel it as Dwalin got lost in the
pleasure. This time, he took Fili with him. When Dwalin came in him a second
time, his satiation filled Fili where he had gone hollow.
Eventually, Dwalin rolled off him. There they lay, staring together at the
stars. Fili thought they mocked him.
“You’re a mess,” Dwalin said bluntly.
Fili didn’t respond. He closed his eyes. He lay there listening as Dwalin made
his way to the river. There was splashing. Then, Dwalin returned.
Dwalin loomed over him like a shadow. Fili saw that he was damp in places, but
otherwise clean. No one else would know from looking at Dwalin what had
happened that night.
“You come back only once you’ve cleaned yourself up,” Dwalin commanded before
he took his leave.
Fili sensed then that if he disobeyed, the punishment would be both swift and
brutal.
***** Chapter 3 *****
Fili was still alone by the river when he heard the long, sad call of the loon.
The sky had grown pink with the dawn around him.
He had not slept.
Dwalin had, Fili knew. Dwalin still slept, sound and dreamless as the morning
light broke. Fili knew it because the storm in his heart had diminished to
little more than a gloom over his thoughts. With the shadow at bay, Fili had a
sense of being a bit more like himself.
The black cloud was still there though, and Fili knew it would neither leave
him entirely. Nor would it be content to linger forever on the horizon.
He lay where Dwalin had left him for a while longer, watching the sky brighten
above him. Dew drops formed, glistening on the leaves of the river grass.
It should have been a beautiful morning. But everything looked bleak.
At last, when he could no longer take the ache from lying on the ground so
long, Fili gingerly pulled himself up.
He looked down at himself. He was messy and he was bloody, and the wound on his
neck still throbbed. But his hair was long enough to hide the gash, and nothing
was really broken. With some work, he might at least make himself look whole.
He eased out of his bloody tunic and his trousers. He tried not to think of how
he had not had the will to pull them up after Dwalin had finished, or the way
his mate’s departure had left him feeling so cold. He shivered now as he
stripped, but not from the chill of morning.
He hobbled slowly toward the river, left his stained clothing on the shore, and
stepped into the water. The current moved briskly. He wondered if it was fast
enough to pull him under and sweep him downstream to the falls to be pummeled
against the rocks and drowned before he ever had to say, I have chosen Dwalin
as my mate. He entered the river to his neck. The waters wouldn’t take him
away, but at least they were swift enough to wash away the defilement of his
body.
He dipped under. He uncombed his braids with his fingers until they flowed
freely in the water. When he rose, he inhaled the fresh air. Fili rinsed the
gash beneath his hairline until it felt clean enough. Then, he scrubbed in
places that refused to feel clean even after he had washed them. He wondered if
they ever really would.
When he could no longer take the cold, he came back to shore. He knelt at the
water’s edge and washed the blood and filth from his clothes and dressed again.
Once he was fully clothed, he turned back toward Elrond’s House. He could hear
nothing over the cry of the river, but knew that they would be stirring by now.
He felt that Dwalin still slumbered, so he stayed by the water a little longer.
The solitude was precious now, he realized.
He sat down again on the bench beside the river, where he and Kili had sat side
by side and watched the river dance in the moonlight before it all had fallen
apart. An age ago, it seemed.
He watched the river as it took away little green rivulets of pollen on its
surface. On the opposite bank, a rabbit bounded full speed out of the brush. A
fox followed swiftly on its tail, giving chase. The animals disappeared once
more into the forest. Fili wondered if the strangled scream that followed was
only in his mind.
“You’re never awake this early.”
Fili jumped in his skin and spun round.
It was Thorin. He breathed a sigh of relief as his uncle came through the trees
towards the river.
“Uncle,” He said. His voice sounded timid and he cleared his throat. “You gave
me quite the start.”
“May I join you?” Thorin took Fili’s silence for a ‘yes’ and sat beside his
nephew. He pulled an apple from his pocket, shined it clean on his coat, and
carved off a slice with his dagger. He handed the bit of apple to Fili.
Fili took it but didn’t eat.
Thorin looked at him a long time. He inspected Fili’s damp clothing and his
wet, unbraided hair curiously.
Fili didn’t return his gaze.
“Did you not sleep?”
“I was up late,” Fili said at last.
“As was I.”
Thorin cleared his throat, trying to find the right words. A million ways of
breaking the question played over in his mind, but each sounded more ridiculous
than the last. “I was thinking last night. I have been thinking a lot lately.”
His own words sounded stupid to his ears.
Fili gave him a sidelong glance.
Thorin quickly munched on the apple, working up the courage to speak his mind.
He felt oddly nervous. Somewhere inside him, a little inner voice chided him
for the fact that he, Thorin Oakenshield, could cut down a hundred orcs in
battle, but couldn’t bring himself to tell the one he loved just how he felt.
“I have been thinking about you,” Thorin finally said. He placed a hand on
Fili’s shoulder. Fili shivered at the touch and Thorin realized his nephew was
cold. “I’ve been thinking about how you must… be eager to choose a mate.”
Fili swallowed and looked back at the river. He felt like he was drowning in
it.
“After all, you are nearly an adult now. You know what is to come.” As soon as
he had said it, Thorin wished he had phrased it differently. “I mean, ah. I
just thought you might… like to choose your mate before… well, before…”
Fili looked at Thorin as the truth suddenly dawned on him. His stomach
plummeted inside him.
Thorin reddened. “Fili, I have loved you for longer than you can know. I named
you as my heir because I love you, and because I respect you, and I wish
nothing but the best for you. I mean… Ah, I don’t know how to say this.”
No,Fili wanted to scream. Oh no, no no no no...
“Thorin, I…”
“I love you,” Thorin said at last. “I love you, and I want you by my side. Not
as my heir, but as my Cherished One. If you would have me, I would ask you to
be my mate.”
“Uncle…” Fili had no words. The world felt like it was spinning.
“I hope you do not think that I am commanding you. The choice is yours, of
course.” Thorin pulled Fili’s hands into his and found them trembling. “I would
only wish for you to be happy.”
Fili felt tears again in his eyes. He bit them back. Had I known, had I but
known! Things could have been so different.
“I have chosen another.”
The words were his, but he was not sure if he had truly spoken them. He knew he
had when Thorin’s face fell.
“Dwalin became my mate last night. I chose him,” Fili whispered after a long,
tense silence. The lie tasted like ash. “It is done.”
Thorin’s jaw clenched. He didn’t believe it.
“Truly?”
Fili said nothing. Finally he nodded.
When at last he could bring himself to look at Thorin, his uncle was staring at
the river. Thorin’s face had gone as cold and stiff stone.
Thorin felt as unstable as the water. If he is Dwalin’s now, how can I still
love him as I do?
He bit his lip at the unfamiliar feeling of unrequited love. It was foreign,
undwarvish. It was not their way to feel such things. He found himself unable
to look Fili in the eye.
He stood abruptly. Then silently he took his leave.
Fili hazarded a glance at Thorin's retreating back. As his uncle disappeared
into the woods he tossed their apple away into the trees.
Fili wanted to call after him, to chase him down and to tell him that he had
made a mistake, a terrible mistake. He wanted to say that had loved him, and
somehow even now, he still loved him. Was this how it was supposed to work? He
ran a shaking hand through his hair, confused and lost.
Then, he felt the darkness awaken inside him.
Dwalin no longer slept. Now his presence flared up deep within Fili and Fili
realized then in horror that Dwalin already knew. Through their shared soul,
Fili felt Dwalin’s jealousy loom like a thundercloud and he knew then that he
could never betray his mate.
He closed his eyes and cradled his head between his knees and wept softly.
Dwalin seemed to bask in his misery, but Fili could not bury his sorrow.
He stayed alone by the river for a while longer, but there came a time when he
could cry no more.
Eventually, Fili heeded Dwalin’s want of him. It was afternoon when he returned
to the House of Elrond.
* * * * *
“Ah, there he is!”
The dwarves erupted in a raucous rabble as they caught sight of Fili returning.
The happy, lewd jokes cracked in good cheer cut like daggers. Dwalin’s presence
inside him bristled in warning, and Fili forced himself to smile.
“Fili!” Kili called. He was mirthful as he bounded up to Fili, and he gave Fili
an exaggeratedly bawdy grin. “Up late, brother?”
Kili;'s mockery stung, but Fili nodded and forced himself to look glad. The
knowing oooh's! and chuckles of the company added to the hurt, but he could
hide pain well.
“It’s true, isn’t it?” Bofur asked, expressive eyes dancing. Any longing for
Fili that Bofur had had a day ago was now gone. It was as if the past few weeks
had never happened.
So it was, with mating.
“Aye, Bofur.” Fili averted his gaze and pretended his blush was one of modesty.
In truth, he stared at the ground because he could not risk Bofur seeing the
pain in his eyes, nor risk Dwalin’s jealous wrath. He said at last, “I have
chosen Dwalin as my mate.”
A chorus of voices cheered him. Some burst into jovial song.
“Fili, m'love,” Dwalin called. It sounded so sincere that Fili might have been
fooled if he had only heard the words and had not felt the threat behind them.
“Come to me.”
Fili did as he was told.
Dwalin swept Fili into an embrace that to outside eyes looked to be the truest
expression of shared affection, afforded only to mated dwarves.
Inside, Fili felt like dying.
Dwalin hugged him harder, but the malevolence within Fili warned him that if he
dared show anything but joy, he would suffer consequences so dark and brutal
that they had no names. So Fili kept smiling. And when Dwalin kissed him warmly
and the company cheered for their coupling, Fili kissed him back.
“Break out the ale!” Gloin said happily.
“And the weed!” Kili called.
The pleasant, intoxicating scent of pipe weed soon wafted to Fili’s nose.
Dwalin’s fingertips dug uncomfortably into Fili’s side. He got the message and
dared not inhale as the company celebrated with weed and beer and the best of
their trail rations.
He looked up into Dwalin’s eyes. The kindness in them was jarring, a great and
terrible lie. But he returned the artifice of affection.
“What is all this?”
The company quieted at Thorin’s loud, abrupt bark. Still, they did not grasp
the depth of Thorin’s malcontent.
Fili did.
And then so too, did Dwalin. He let Fili go, but tightly kept hold of his hand.
“Master Thorin!” Bombur swallowed a hunk of sausage. “Fili’s chosen Dwalin as
his mate!”
“Aye, and we’re celebratin’,” Kili grinned, pouring a tankard of ale.
Bifur babbled happily in incoherent Khuzdul. Some dwarves started singing once
more and the merriment escalated.
“ENOUGH!”
The company fell silent.
Thorin was in one of the blackest moods that Fili had ever seen him in. Because
Fili had sensed it, Dwalin did now as well. Fili silently cursed himself. For
that, Dwalin punished him. He squeezed Fili’s hand as if to say, you have no
permission to damn yourself. So Fili relinquished that, too.
He scanned the ground for something, anything, to distract himself. A seam in
the marble tiles was beneath his feet. He poured his thoughts into it,
evaluating the uniformity of its lines, the rich coloring of the stone, the
skill with which even elves could hew marble from unfinished rock. Then he did
it again, and again, until he succeeded in drowning his emotions in the
analysis of a floor.
At last Balin cleared his throat to break the silence.
“Thorin, a celebration is in order after a mating takes place. It is
tradition.”
“Our traditions are tied to our kingdom,” Thorin cursed in a low hiss. “And if
you fools would remember it, we are on a quest to retake what is ours!” His
voice grew louder until he was bellowing. “There will be no more celebrating
for anything – not until we have slain that dragon! DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?!”
The dwarves, stunned, finally mumbled their assent.
“And you two,” Thorin wheeled on Dwalin and Fili. “We are on a mission. This is
not a honeymoon, so keep your signs of affection out of my sight.”
“As you command, Thorin.” Dwalin dropped Fili’s hand.
“Yes, uncle,” Fili whispered.
Thorin gave them a last smoldering glare before he stalked out of the hall.
***** Chapter 4 *****
The company’s good mood had soured after Thorin’s outburst. It mostly remained
that way while they packed up their belongings and slipped out of Rivendell
undetected by their Elvish hosts. As Thorin drove them hard, Fili knew his
uncle was taking out his resentment on the entire company.
Even in the beginning, the going was hard. It would have been fine if not for
the night before, for hard marches were nothing new to Fili, but today was
different. He could not help but walk bowlegged, and a deep ache persisted in
places that he fought not to think about. Fili was good at ignoring pain, but
he wasn’t that good at it.
The best he could do was distract himself with the change in scenery as they
marched. He had never been fond of forests, but for once the trees gave him
something to think about. He soon noticed that the trees branched in a pattern
that was predictable. Each trunk split in two branches, then each branch split
again and again until they had filled out the space above the trunk and were
crowned in slender leaves. The more he thought about the pattern, the more he
found the trees interesting and the less hopelessness he felt. But at times, if
he got too deep into the rhythm of analysis, the primal part of him slipped
around the wall of concentration he had built and he would find himself feeling
again.
Dwalin sensed his sorrow and seemed to feed off it. As much as Fili tried to
fight him by focusing on their surroundings, by day's end he had accepted the
constancy of his grief and the painful knowledge that Dwalin reveled in his
suffering.
When they finally stopped to camp, the sun was setting. Fili was in agony. He
had accepted his sadness and hated himself for his weakness, but the physical
pain that had grown with every mile had only added salt to the wound. What had
begun as a dull ache beneath Fili’s navel had given rise to an obstinate and
thudding sensation deep in his body. But through it all, beside Fili and within
him, he could feel Dwalin brimming with energy.
A single day, he thought. A single day and I cannot take this.
Dwalin wrapped an arm around his shoulder as if he had read Fili’s mind.
“It will get easier.” He placed a gentle kiss upon Fili’s temple.
Fili thought the gesture was just a show and that the real Dwalin wanted to
break him. Or perhaps not. Perhaps there was something genuine to Dwalin’s
touch, something manipulative and far more sinister than raw, unbridled
violence.
“Come with me,” Dwalin commanded. “Bring your things.”
Fili obeyed. He slung his bags over his shoulder and followed Dwalin off away
from camp. There they came to a large tree that had long ago been uprooted in a
storm. The root base formed a massive wall that hid the camp from view. A
shallow bowl had been left where the roots had once been, and Dwalin set his
gear down in it.
“We’ll sleep here tonight,” Dwalin said. “It’ll give us some privacy.”
Fili furrowed his brow. “But won’t we be vulnerable, away from the others?”
As soon as he had asked it, Fili regretted it. In two steps Dwalin was on him.
He closed a fist in the hair at the base of Fili’s skull, dirty fingers pulling
open the unbound wound. Fili gave a sharp gasp of pain.
“Shut up!” Dwalin hissed. “You are not to contradict me, not ever. Nor will you
question me. If you fail me, I will hurt you. Is that clear?”
“Yes,” Fili winced. “It is clear.”
“Good.” Dwalin’s voice softened and he let Fili go. He traced his hand over
Fili’s cheek and rested his thumb upon Fili’s lip. “That’s better.”
Fili looked up at him warily. He didn’t move as Dwalin kissed him.
When he sensed that Dwalin truly did find him appealing, everything felt worse.
Still, he opened his mouth at Dwalin’s silent and urgent need. He let his eyes
fall closed. A tear that had grown in the corner of his eye slid slowly down
his cheek.
As Dwalin pulled him close and wrapped him in his arms, Fili listened for
something, anything with a pattern to drown out his despair. The first thing he
heard was a bird, with a long, sad cry followed by a series of keening
whistles. He listened as Dwalin pushed him to his knees. He listened as Dwalin
forced open his jaw and took him in the mouth. Fili listened still when Dwalin
spent himself down his throat and left him there in the dirt as he went off, in
search of something to eat.
Alone again, Fili swallowed and wiped the seed from his mouth with the back of
his hand. Then he set to work arranging his things behind the roots of the
fallen tree. He unfurled his bedroll near the tree, away from Dwalin’s things.
He laid himself down upon it, exhausted and aching and melancholy.
His stomach gave an unhappy growl and he remembered then that he had not eaten.
He ignored that pain, too. Soon the sensation passed.
He could hear the other dwarves at the main camp some distance away, engaging
in typical cheery conversation. He heard Dwalin laugh. Fili knew that he was
not thinking about him, for there was no sense of greed or lust or power in
Dwalin’s presence. Instead there was simple contentment, and that was all.
Fili forced himself to think about something lest he slip into remembering last
night. He looked up at the weatherworn roots above him with a furrowed brow and
wondered how wood could cut its way through rock and stone as it grew. He
reached up and traced his finger on the roots, feeling the long dead wood and
thinking then that perhaps whatever made the trees grow tall also made them
grow deep.
Then the sound of a branch popping underfoot made him startle. He sat straight
up and spun, and there saw his brother some ways away in the woods, collecting
firewood. Kili hadn’t noticed him.
“Kili,” he called softly. Kili looked about a moment searching, but then he
squinted and grinned and Fili knew that Kili had found him. Kili joined his
brother by the tree, tossing down his firewood as he plopped down beside Fili.
“Looks like you found a nice place,” Kili said. “Bet you and Dwalin are happy
for the privacy.”
“Aye,” Fili said. He wanted to say more, but didn’t dare.
“What’s it like?”
“What?”
“Sex! Duh.”
Fili returned Kili’s grin with a humorless sigh.
“It leaves you tired. And it hurts. Oh, just a little,” Fili added quickly when
his brother’s expression faltered. “I think it takes a bit of getting used to.”
“Did he put it in you?”
“Kili!” Fili reddened. “That’s private.”
Kili bit back a snort.
Fili winced as he realized he’d been goaded. A day ago he might have snickered
along with his brother if only because Kili had laughed, but now his laughter
was gone. He picked at a thread on his hooded jacket until it began to unravel
in his fingers.
Kili took out his pocket knife and began to scrape the grime out from under his
stubby fingernails.
“It sounds gross.”
“I guess it is,” Fili agreed. He thought then on just how young Kili still was.
There were only five years between them and that made them near twins as
dwarves went, but in the past few months Fili had been dragged screaming into
adulthood while his brother had remained a juvenile. Kili's reaction to the
thought of sex reflected that. Fili ached a little for the death of his own
innocence.
When he looked back at his brother, Fili saw Kili frowning at him.
“Does it feel good at all?” Kili asked.
Fili didn’t answer that. It didn’t feel good, not even the thought of it. But
he couldn’t tell Kili the truth. He settled for repeating Dwalin’s words.
“It’ll get easier.”
They sat in silence for a long moment. Fili leaned back against a flat spot
between two tree roots and closed his eyes. With Kili there beside him, things
seemed a little less terrible.
He glanced over then at his brother. Kili had picked up a piece of knotted wood
and had started carving idly at its knobby surface. In the shadows, his profile
looked very much like that of their uncle.
Fili grew sad at the thought. It reminded him of what he could have had, but
now had lost.
“Kili?”
Kili looked up at him. The resemblance to Thorin faded as Kili gave him a
cheery grin.
“You’re next, you know.”
Kili hurled the piece of wood into the forest where it landed somewhere in the
underbrush.
“Yeah, I know,” Kili said. If he was concerned, he didn't show it.
“It probably won’t happen right away,” Fili said. “But it’ll happen soon
enough. Within a decade, I imagine.”
“I’ll probably be your age.”
“Maybe a little older. But in any case, it'll happen,” Fili said. His brother
had been slower to mature than he had; he was still skinny, and only now had
his dwarfling stubble begun to take on the shape of a true beard, if not yet
its fullness. Still so young. “Thorin will let you choose your mate. And when
you do, you should choose him.”
Kili gave out a raucous laugh at that.
“No,” Fili grabbed his brother’s arm. “I’m serious.”
“So is he!” Kili kept laughing. “Stuffy old Uncle Thorin, my mate!”
“Kili, listen to me!” It came out harsher than intended, and Kili seemed to
startle at his brother’s tone. Fili softened his words. “When you make love for
the first time, you are bonded to your mate.”
“I know how it works.”
“No, you feel him. You feel everything.” He looked away then. “He becomes a
part of you. You feel his desires, his passions. When he’s angry, you know it
here.” He touched a hand to his chest. “When he wants you, you know it. And
it’s hard to know sometimes whether what you’re feeling is your own, or if it
is his.”
“Fili…”
“I don’t say this to frighten you,” Fili said quickly. Concern was now growing
in his brother’s eyes, so Fili smiled and lied through his teeth. “I made my
choice. And I don’t regret it. But I want you to know what you’re getting
yourself into.”
Kili furrowed his brow and was silent. Fili knew then that Kili didn’t believe
him.
“Please, Kili,” he said softly. “When the time comes, choose Thorin. He doesn’t
keep secrets. You know him. He has a good heart, and would be a good match for
you.”
“Then why didn’t you choose him?”
Fili was silent at that for a long moment. There was no lie that he could say
that would even sound remotely plausible.
“Because I chose Dwalin,” he said finally.
“But why?”
Fili swallowed. He tried to think of something, anything, but his mind was
blank. Before he could think of an answer, he suddenly knew that Dwalin sensed
that he was on Fili's mind. The foreign feelings of want and greed and lust
grew again inside of Fili.
“He’s coming, Kili. I feel that. He’s finished eating, and he’s happy. But I
think he wants to be alone with me.” Kili was looking at him with something
akin to horror now. Fili touched his shoulder quickly, before Dwalin came back
and caught them. “Please, think on what I’ve told you. Thorin may seem gloomy
to you now, but when your time comes, he will love you like you deserve.”
“My dearest.”
Fili froze at Dwalin voice behind him. He plastered a smile onto his face tand
turned towards his mate.
“Dwalin,” Fili said. “I was telling Kili how it is, being mated.”
“Really?” Dwalin came and sat beside them. He gave Kili a gentle smile and
placed a heavy and threatening hand on Fili’s thigh. “What’d he tell you, lad?”
“He said he could feel your happiness,” Kili said.
Kili returned Dwalin’s expression with a smile of his own that looked so
genuine that it nearly convinced Fili too. Fili let himself accept the lie and
pretended Kili was truly happy for them both. He didn’t dare question whether
Dwalin was fooled or not.
“It sounds… intimate.”
“It is,” Dwalin said proudly. He squeezed Fili’s leg. “Isn’t it, m’love?”
Fili nodded and placed his hand on Dwalin’s and tried to quell the sense of
danger that loomed inside him.
“Kili,” Dwalin said. “Why don’t you give us a moment alone? I want to spend
some time with my mate. Whatever Thorin says, this is the closest thing to a
honeymoon we’ll get.”
Kili looked at Fili once more. Fili took on Dwalin’s sense of need and made it
his own, and almost managed to convince himself that he wanted to be alone with
Dwalin.
“Go on,” Fili said. “It’s okay.”
Kili said nothing and gave him a troubled look, but in the end he nodded,
stood, and left in silence empty-handed.
Fili watched Kili go and his heart sank. The hand tightened painfully on his
thigh.
“You had best be careful,” Dwalin murmured. “You wouldn’t want any harm to come
to Kili, now would you?”
“Of course not,” Fili whispered.
“Then see that you tell him nothin’ except that you love me.”
Fili ran a trembling hand through his hair. It seemed that everything trembled
just a little now. “All right.”
“Good.” Dwalin rubbed Fili’s thigh and then slid his hand up and cupped Fili in
his palm. Fili tensed at the touch, and Dwalin took that as an invitation to
pull Fili unresisting into his lap. “I want you to enjoy this. We’re going to
be doing this for a long time.”
“But you hurt me,” Fili whispered. “You hurt me so badly.”
“I know.” Dwalin gently combed his fingers through Fili’s hair and pressed his
lips tenderly against the wound at the base of Fili’s skull. “I’m sorry that I
hurt you. But I can make you feel good, if you’ll let me.”
Fili hung his head as Dwalin began to kiss him. Dwalin rubbed his big hands
over Fili’s shoulders, then slid his fingers down Fili’s arms and undid the
buckles of Fili’s bracers. He then undid Fili’s belt and tossed it aside.
Dwalin slipped his hands beneath the fabric of Fili’s coat and leather jerkin,
then went to work on the laces of his tunic.
Through it all, Fili did not fight him. It would have been of no use anyways.
He let Dwalin ease him out of his layers until he was in just his shirtsleeves.
Dwalin continued to place warm, gentle kisses upon the nape of his neck. Fili
shivered.
“Cold, m’love?”
“Please don’t call me that,” Fili said.
Abruptly Dwalin threw him to the ground. Fili landed on the dirt with a hard
grunt. When Dwalin’s fist caught him in the ribs, he gave a small yelp of pain
and Dwalin struck him again and harder. This time he bit his tongue to keep
from crying out. He tasted blood.
“I told you!” Dwalin’s voice was low and dangerous. “You do not contradict me.”
Fili groaned. Dwalin hit him a third time.
“I’m sorry!” Fili spat. He held up his hands in surrender.
“That’s better,” Dwalin said. His voice went gentle again, but Fili could still
feel his rage boiling in the both of them. “Now, m’love. I have a question.”
Fili swallowed and pulled himself up. When he met Dwalin’s eyes he couldn’t
hold his gaze for long.
“Why did you not make my bed, too?”
“I… I did not know you wanted me to.”
“I do want you to. Please, make the beds together. I’d like to hold you
tonight.” He climbed to his feet and leaned up against the tree roots. “I’ll
even stay out of the way until you’ve finished.”
Slowly, Fili went over to Dwalin’s things and pulled forth his bedroll. The
furs of it were worn with years of use, but the leather was supple in his hands
and he thought he could set it up alongside his own to make them somewhat
comfortable.
He made the beds together and then stayed kneeling on the ground beside them,
unsure of what Dwalin wanted him to do now.
“Now, lie down.”
Fili obeyed. He swallowed as Dwalin joined him there face to face and draped a
thick, scarred arm around Fili’s middle and pulled him close.
“Look at me.”
Fili met his gaze. He tried not to shake as Dwalin caressed his cheek.
“You really have nothing to fear if you just do as I say.”
Fili tried to think of something to say to that, but he knew that anything he
said might earn him another beating, or worse.
“I’m sorry,” was all he said. He then said it again. “I’m sorry. I can’t… I…”
“I know you’re scared.” Dwalin closed one of Fili’s braids between his thumb
and forefinger. He pulled loose the metal that fastened it and undid the braid
and draped the loosed strands behind Fili’s ear as he spoke. “You’re terrified.
I can feel it.”
“I know,” Fili whispered.
“Like I said, I want you to enjoy this. I don’t want to have to hurt you.”
Fili sensed that there was something true to what Dwalin said. On some level,
Dwalin truly did want Fili to be happy. If Dwalin could feel what Fili felt, it
made sense that he would want him to be happy. But it felt so wrong, for any
happiness he felt would be on Dwalin’s terms and not his own. Such happiness
came at the price of his dignity and his freedom. The price was his self-worth.
There was no true happiness in that.
“I’m going to touch you now,” Dwalin said. “Try to enjoy it.”
Fili sniffled softly, but said nothing. He bit down on his lip again as Dwalin
slipped his hands down into his trousers. Then Dwalin began to stroke him.
He grew firm in Dwalin’s hand and he squeezed his eyes shut. He grunted softly
as the sensation changed from too sensitive to pleasurable. Dwalin sensed
Fili’s response. He changed the angle of his hand, and Fili gave a gasp as his
hips bucked a little. He tried to find enjoyment in it for the sooner he could
bring himself to like it, the sooner it would be over.
Still, he couldn’t get used to the feeling. Dwalin kept him hard and stole his
soft little moans with kisses upon the mouth, but the sensations seemed to
plateau at an uncomfortable state of stimulation and unmet need. There was a
barrier in his mind. Dwalin sensed it, too.
“Show me what you like,” Dwalin said.
Fili breathed out heavily as Dwalin let him go. He heard Dwalin sit up beside
him on the bedding, waiting for Fili to demonstrate.
“I… I don’t know what I like,” Fili said.
“Then figure it out.”
Fili hesitated, but Dwalin kept watching him. He tentatively slid his hand down
his trousers and began to touch himself.
“Let me see you,” Dwalin said.
Fili let go of himself and unlaced his trousers, then brought them down around
his thighs. As he did so, he caught a glance of his own nakedness. He had grown
to twice his normal length and was stiff as stone, thick and heavy with an
uncharacterized want. Ugly, he thought. He had no wish to touch himself there.
But Dwalin was beside him, eager to learn and willing to punish if Fili didn’t
teach him. So Fili took himself up once more, and didn’t look.
He could feel Dwalin’s eyes upon him as he touched himself. He tried different
speeds, then different grips, and found that wrapping the first two fingers and
his thumb around himself while pressing the other two flat against his palm
seemed to do things right.
With the pleasure came shame. It crept up inside him and he did his hardest to
focus on how good it felt, how good it could feel, but still the guilt consumed
him. He kept going. When he changed the angle of his wrist, something felt just
different enough to sweep him up in the sensation. He let out a ragged breath
and did it again, forcing the pleasure to mount. Soon, the blend of shame and
pleasure spiraled together and multiplied, and something felt like it was
uncoiling in his stones and deep within his pelvis. He felt a driving need
towards something he wanted, desperately so, and he stroked himself faster,
harder, until he could no longer contain himself. He gave out a soft cry as his
pleasure arced hot and sticky out of him and splattered across his chest.
It was release. It was a climax. But there was no joy in it.
He came down into something that felt like the quiet after a rainstorm. Dwalin
joined him on the bedrolls and fingered the fabric of his shirtsleeve.
“Take this off. It’s filthy.”
Fili did so. He sat up, slipped out of his shirt, and tossed it aside.
“And these.” Dwalin pinched him through his trousers.
“Wh” – Fili started. “Why?”
“Because I want to see you. All of you.”
Fili shrank a little, but eventually acquiesced. He pulled off his boots and
slipped his trousers down his legs. His thighs quivered slightly as he did so.
He stripped himself until he was fully nude.
He had never been shy about his body. It was like that of any other young, fit
dwarf. Sturdy and well-muscled, with coarser hair than what men had and in
places where most men did not grow it, with the small bit of softness that
proved his fondness for beer and good food clinging to his middle. But now,
with Dwalin’s eyes upon him, he felt ashamed of his skin. He drew his knees up
to his chest to hide himself.
“You’re perfect, m’love,” Dwalin said, as if it might comfort Fili. He rubbed a
heavy hand down Fili’s spine. “Like gold. Come and lie with me.”
Fili obeyed. He tried to get small as he lay down by his mate. Dwalin, still
clothed, wrapped Fili in his arms and pulled him close. Then he draped a
blanket over them both, and Fili was silently grateful for the warmth.
“Like I said,” Dwalin whispered, “it’ll get easier.”
“Okay,” was all that Fili could think to say.
***** Chapter 5 *****
Dwalin had been right.
It did get easier with time.
The first day after Rivendell faded into the second, and then into the third.
The week stretched into a fortnight. In that time Dwalin did not force himself
on Fili again, not like that awful first time. Instead he had been content to
touch Fili’s body or to use Fili’s mouth and hands for pleasure.
None of it was easy, but it was easier than it could have been.
Over time, Fili’s physical wounds had healed. In a day he was walking right and
in three, the ache in the pit of his belly was gone. The exhausting fight in
Rivendell followed by several days’ hard march had strengthened his muscles,
and when his appetite didn’t return he grew a little leaner and faster than
before.
His body had always been quick to heal. The other wounds, though, stayed raw
and aching. Dwalin’s presence was still foreign and unpalatable inside him, and
when Dwalin grew angry or jealous or greedy Fili felt it acutely.
His only comfort was found in denying Dwalin the chance to feel his emotions.
He learned that denying himself the right to feel denied it to Dwalin as well,
and with time he got better at it. All it took was hard cognitive power, and
everything that could take his mind off his melancholy was suddenly worth
thinking about. The songs of wind and birds in the air. The size and shapes of
stones underfoot, the yellow grass that broke instead of bent, the way that the
hills grew slowly until they were more like peaks as they ascended into the
Misty Mountains. He wondered where one drew the line between what made a hill a
hill and a mountain a mountain and if it was all just arbitrary anyways. But
there had to be a distinction somewhere, because soon the clear skies had given
way to clouds as thick as stew through which little could be seen. Fili managed
to keep up his distraction by silently counted his footfalls, restarting after
every thousandth step.
It was harder when they weren’t moving. Dwalin had quickly discovered that
while in camp, he could get anything he wanted just by ordering Fili around,
taking pleasure in the simple act of watching Fili work. The tasks weren’t
hard. They were bringing Dwalin his meal or setting up his bedroll or mucking
out his knapsack. But it wasn’t the tasks themselves that were important so
much as Dwalin flaunting his power over Fili, and it took all the strength that
Fili could summon not to despise his mate for it. Fili did what he was told,
focused on doing each task perfectly, and took a small bit of solace in
careful, methodical work.
And doing the job right just might keep Dwalin from hitting him.
It happened infrequently, but often enough to keep Fili always wary. If Dwalin
didn’t like the way that Fili had done a task or if Fili had taken too long in
doing it, he took to pummeling Fili’s ribs or twisting his arms back at wrong
angles or spanking him hard upon the backside like a dwarfling until he burned
in humiliation. Dwalin would continue until tears stung in Fili’s eyes and he
would only let up when Fili begged him to stop. Then Dwalin usually would. But
not if he thought that Fili had given in too quickly.
It wasn’t the pain of the beatings so much as their unpredictability that
punctured Fili’s resolve. When he finished a task, even if it was perfect, Fili
was never sure if Dwalin would give him a gentle kiss of approval or a swift
and powerful blow. Sometimes the fear got so bad that he found himself unable
to even start the task; to try and fail was worse than to fail outright from
the beginning. At least that had a predictable, if not invariably violent,
outcome. If he never tried the task, he never had to guess as to whether or not
he’d be struck.
At the very least, Dwalin was never cruel in front of others. In the presence
of the company Dwalin was all affection, and Fili had no wish to disillusion
them. In this one thing he and Dwalin were complicit, and silently they worked
to keep the violence between them a dark and intimate secret. No one else would
understand it.
And no one in the company seemed to deduce the truth. To them, any visible
tension between the new lovers was just an adjustment to mated life. For all
intents and purposes, Dwalin and Fili were truly in love, and the company was
none the wiser.
None, except for Thorin.
After Rivendell, Thorin had felt fractured. The memory of that morning was
still fresh, but he had the distinct feeling that it would never truly heal.
Instead, with time, it would be tucked away with all the hurts and grudges that
he carried, for he was Thorin Oakenshield. And Thorin Oakenshield did not let
go of the past.
But this was different than the loss of his father and grandfather, or even the
loss of Erebor. Thror and Thrain could be avenged and Erebor retaken, but there
was no war to be fought or dragon to be slain to bring back the opportunity
that Thorin had wasted.
Fili was mated. The act was done.
It had taken several days of hard marching to drive out the pain in his heart
before Thorin could even acknowledge his nephew’s existence. He still could not
speak to him. But now they were a fortnight out of Rivendell and Thorin found
himself watching Fili protectively once again, as he had always done.
He knew intellectually that his nephew needed no protection. Fili had always
been strong enough to defend himself and wise enough to keep out of the path of
trouble. But like all his habits, Thorin found it hard to quell his
defensiveness over his heir. Even now, knowing that it was Dwalin’s place and
not his own to protect Fili, Thorin could not keep from checking in on Fili
from time to time as they made their way towards Erebor.
What Thorin saw concerned him, though he couldn’t quite say why.
Fili had always been a little reserved for a dwarf, but in just two weeks he
had grown more reticent. He ate less now, and no longer went back for seconds.
He might drink a single pint for every two or three of his companions, and he
laughed less at Kili’s or Bofur’s jokes. When they sang songs, Fili joined in,
but without his usual gusto and sometimes he would just stop singing in the
middle of a verse for no apparent reason. That was the worst, for he’d start to
look like he had retreated into a part of his mind where music could not
follow.
But Fili still brightened whenever Dwalin came to sit with him. If it had been
different, Thorin would have had cause to be concerned.
What Thorin saw made him think that Fili was happy enough. He still treated the
others well and engaged in polite conversation when spoken to. He smiled a lot
and stayed near the mate he loved, and he took care of Dwalin with affection.
He groomed Dwalin’s beard and cleaned Dwalin’s things and brought Dwalin his
meals, and he seemed to take joy in being generous to his mate.
Thorin should have been happy for Fili. But seeing Fili in love just made the
heartache worse. To admit that he still loved Fili was to admit a certain
undwarvishness, for his people did not love those who had been mated.
So Thorin smothered his feelings of loneliness and only dwelt upon it late in
the night after his companions were fast asleep.
***** Chapter 6 *****
Fili awoke in the middle of the night, burning.
He sat straight up on his bedroll. His breaths were clouds of mist in the dark,
but he felt so hot. He clawed his way out of his hooded jacket and then the
shirt beneath it, exposing his sweaty skin to the mountain air. The coldness
felt good, but he still burned for something, something.
He breathed deeply to steady his mind. As the haze of sleep wore off and he
came into tune with his body, he realized he was hard as a rock between his
legs and he yearned for the touch of a hand upon him. Any hand, but not his
own. That would not be enough.
Dwalin moved in his sleep beside Fili.
Dwalin.
Fili froze. A wave of horror washed over him. He knew then what was happening.
He clamped his hands to his mouth to stifle the sound of his low, heaving
breath. Fili tried not to think of Dwalin, but trying not to think of him put
Dwalin foremost in Fili’s thoughts. He squeezed his eyes closed and thought of
something else, anything else – the coolness of the mist on his skin, the low
moan of wind in the mountain passes, the soft and alluring sound of Dwalin’s
breath beside him.
No!He curled a fist in his own hair and pulled to distract himself with the
pain. Somehow that made it worse. The tension at his scalp seemed only to
heighten his pleasure. He shuddered, wanting.
Then Dwalin moved again. Before Fili realized it, he was staring open-mouthed
at his mate. Dwalin still slept soundly, his craggy face smoothed by slumber.
Fili scrambled back away from the bedrolls, but he could not stop looking.
Dwalin’s mouth gave a gentle twitch that shook the whiskers upon his lip, and
Fili wanted to touch him. He wanted to kiss him, to feel Dwalin’s beard against
his own and to have Dwalin put his hands upon him, to hold him down in the
earth and above all, to bed him. He screamed at himself inwardly for the
thought.
When Dwalin opened his eyes and looked at Fili, he knew then that his own
desire had woken his mate. He damned himself. And he swelled with need.
Dwalin blinked slowly, and stretched. He sat up and gave a yawn and folded his
hands in his lap. He furrowed his brow at Fili. Then he gave Fili a small and
predatory smile, knowing.
When Dwalin held out his hands, Fili fell against him and Dwalin kissed him.
Fili kissed him back hungrily. He moaned softly as Dwalin grabbed his jaw and
pulled his mouth open and then slipped his tongue inside. Fili rubbed his hands
upon Dwalin’s broad chest and found the clasps on his tunic and undid them
without thinking. He reached under Dwalin’s clothing and buried his fingers in
the warm fur on Dwalin’s chest. When the muscles beneath Dwalin’s skin tensed,
Fili cherished the feel of it. Fili wanted more, and he hated himself for it.
But he could not stop touching his mate.
Dwalin pushed Fili to the ground and pulled eagerly at Fili’s trousers, still
mouthing the flushed skin of Fili’s neck. Fili pulled at his clothing, not
caring when he ripped open the lacing to expose himself to his mate. He just
wanted Dwalin now. He needed him. Nothing else mattered, not even his burning
shame.
Fili gasped softly as Dwalin closed a hand upon him and stroked him. When
Dwalin clamped his other hand over Fili’s mouth Fili moaned louder, taking
enjoyment from anything Dwalin did to him. It startled him, it terrified him,
but he reveled in the sudden idea of being held down and taken by his mate. He
remembered how terrible it had been that first time, but now he wanted it – he
wanted to belong to Dwalin.
But then he remembered. He already belonged to Dwalin. He gave a low groan of
joy and despair.
Fili wrapped his arms around Dwalin’s thick waist and pulled his mate between
his thighs. He lifted his hips and hooked his foot around Dwalin’s middle to
pull him closer until they were pressed hard against one another. When Dwalin
rubbed against him, Fili gave a low growl of pleasure.
“Please,” he murmured. He didn’t know if he was begging Dwalin to stop or to
keep going. “Please…”
“You tell me what you want.” Dwalin whispered. He positioned himself at Fili’s
entrance and kissed Fili’s throat when he murmured with need. “Do you want me
in you?”
“Yes!” Fili gasped again. The warning that sounded inside him was like the cry
of a whole people as their city was sacked, but a different part of him, an
ascendant part, wanted the pillaging. This was what Dwalin wanted to do to him
so Fili wanted it done. “Do it!”
“You don’t command me,” Dwalin said. “You beg if you want something.”
“Please, I am begging you!” He whispered it but it could have been a scream.
“You’re begging me to what?”
“I am begging you to take me!” The words stung as Fili spat them out.
“Like I did in Rivendell?” Dwalin smiled as he said it.
Fili moaned a low sound of assent. His shame consumed him. “Please, claim me.”
“On your knees.”
Fili was happy to obey. He rolled over onto all fours and spread his legs. He
agonized with need and heard Dwalin rummage through his pack for something. It
seemed like an eternity before Fili felt Dwalin’s hands upon him again. This
time Dwalin’s fingers were slippery with something cold and oily. When they
breached him, they went in easier than before and the discomfort was mingled
with pleasure.
Fili gave a soft groan as Dwalin put two, then three fingers into him,
preparing him. It was uncomfortable and violating but sensuous. As Dwalin
wiggled his digits inside him, one of them brushed up against something that
sent a jolt of ecstasy through Fili. Dwalin dealt a stinging blow to his
backside when he cried out with the sensation.
“Be quiet, or you get nothing.”
Fili nodded. He arched his back for that good feeling again, and when Dwalin’s
fingers brushed that spot Fili ground his teeth together and let out his noise
of pleasure in a low hiss.
When Dwalin removed his fingers and pressed himself against Fili’s entrance,
Fili was eager for it. But then Dwalin pushed his way inside and the pain of
being penetrated sent him suddenly back to that last night in Rivendell. He
thought he heard the waterfall and felt the hard stones beneath him. The wound
on his neck, mostly healed by now, felt like it was open once again.
A part of him, the last true part of him, screamed inwardly in terror. But this
time, a stronger part of his soul wanted to be claimed. He yearned for it. The
violence, the shock, the pain; he craved it all.
He wanted Dwalin to break him.
Somewhere inside him, a sad voice whispered that it was not Fili, but Dwalin,
who wanted that. But it had become hard to tell where Fili ended and Dwalin
began. Now, with the heat upon him, it was nearly impossible. Dwalin’s wants
had become Fili’s and were full of Dwalin’s darkness. Fili had never been a
lover of pain nor wanted to be forced into submission. But now the thought of
being broken and reformed into what Dwalin wanted him to be had become
overpowering.
Then when Dwalin moved inside him he shuddered in pleasure. The rebellious and
true part of his soul seemed to retreat into a sheltered corner of his mind.
The sensations rocked through him again and he felt like he was looming over a
broken and cowering child, a captured dwarfling prince who had been raped and
beaten to the edge of death and now begged for mercy. But Fili gave in to the
heat, and when he broke that final barrier he killed the last of his own
defiance.
Now as Dwalin rocked into him, Fili reveled in it. He surrendered to how
painfully good it felt.
Dwalin was ecstatic. So too then was Fili.
He moved his hips as Dwalin filled him. Dwalin clamped a hand upon his face and
forced his cheek down to the ground and Fili took pleasure in being held in
place. He felt fire sear through his neck again as Dwalin dug his fingers into
the mostly healed wound at the base of his skull and pulled it open. Fili
gasped sharply and silently mouthed words in Kuzdhul for violence and torture
and yearning. All the pain manifested as pleasure between his legs. Dwalin
gripped his hips hard and pounded into him then, and Fili savored the
brutality.
Then Dwalin closed a fist upon Fili and began to stroke. Fili rocked forward
into his mate’s grip and back onto Dwalin’s cock, surrounded and filled by his
Cherished One. Dwalin moved faster within him now. The rhythmic sensation
coupled with the pain brought Fili close to climax, and when Dwalin thudded
against that sweet spot once more Fili went tumbling over that final hurdle.
When he came, each spurt shot harder than the last on the ground beneath him
until it slowed, then stopped, and he was finally spent.
This time, there was satisfaction. This time, Fili felt complete. Fili felt
like someone new.
Dwalin finished soon after, pumping himself into Fili, filling him with hot
seed. When Dwalin finished he fell heavily onto his mate, still buried inside.
Fili’s eyes fell closed. Relieved, numb, he inhaled the smell of sex that
lingered in the mist of the mountain air.
Slowly his senses faded until he felt… nothing. There was nothing. Pain,
satiation, but nothing beyond the physical. He thought he should be concerned,
but even that was impossible to feel now.
All that mattered now was that everything had changed. Now, he was what Dwalin
wanted him to be.
Perhaps that was what he had wanted all along, he thought. Perhaps he had not
even known it.
When he closed his eyes tears rolled down his cheek. No emotion accompanied
them.
Fili grunted softly as Dwalin pulled out. When Dwalin settled down beside Fili
and pulled him into his arms, Fili returned the embrace. Then Dwalin kissed him
gently on the forehead, and Fili felt a sensation that he had never felt for
Dwalin.
In that moment, he felt love.
It was not his emotion. Fili felt nothing of his own now. What he did feel he
felt only because Dwalin had felt it first. But Fili let his mate in and
silently acquiesced to Dwalin’s presence in his mind. He allowed the emotion to
become his own.
Eventually, Dwalin smiled and kissed him. Fili kissed him back.
“I’m glad you’re mine.”
“As am I,” Fili whispered.
***** Chapter 7 *****
In the Misty Mountains, the quest had become a blur of dangerously close
encounters with mortality.
As they had climbed they had been swept up in what became a countless sea of
storms, each one worse than the last. The very worst drove the company into a
cave that had opened up beneath them as they slept. It was lucky that none of
them had died in the fall, much less at the hands of the goblins that had
captured them. And when the company had fought their way out of Goblintown only
to encounter Azog the Defiler, who drove them into the trees and nearly sent
the companions plummeting to their deaths over a cliff side, it was nothing
short of remarkable that they managed to escape.
Thorin barely remembered it. All he recalled was falling, his kin rushing in to
defend him, and losing his Oakenshield, with which all patience for this quest
had been lost too.
They were torn and battered after Goblintown. Much of their strength and nearly
all of their provisions had been sapped, and they had lost too much: tools,
equipment, some of their weapons, all of their food.
It had been Gandalf’s idea been to take refuge in the house of Beorn. The man
was massive even as men went, and was hairier than many dwarves. He could
become a bear at will and surrounded himself with queer talking creatures that
gave Thorin an ill feeling, but at least the rest of the company seemed
heartened by the much-needed respite.
For his part, Thorin resented the delay. Every day they dallied was one day
lost from finishing the quest. With Fili lost to him, all that gave Thorin hope
was reclaiming his lost throne. But of all the members of the party his
injuries had been the worst, and Gandalf had refused to let them travel until
his wounds had healed. Begrudgingly, Thorin had acquiesced.
By the third day in Beorn’s house, he was growing restless. The place had
quickly worn on him and he was sick of watching his company grow complacent.
There were only so many drinking songs the lads could sing, Thorin thought. But
then someone would make up a new one, teach the others, and the entire company
would join in on the merriment. Even Bilbo had learned a dwarvish tune or two,
but sang them an octave too high and was always mixing up the lyrics.
Amidst all his glowering, it was a small wonder that Thorin even noticed that
one person shared in his displeasure: Fili.
It wasn’t that Fili grumped in the corner by himself, or scowled at his
companions when spoken to. Instead, it was as if a light had gone out inside
him, like a lantern without a candle. Fili didn’t sing at all now, not anymore.
Come to think of it, Fili didn’t do much of anything with anyone anymore unless
it was with Dwalin. Fili had grown thinner and his belt now seemed to slip down
around his middle even on the tightest setting. He never seemed to look anyone
in the eyes anymore. And he had stopped smiling altogether.
Thorin watched his nephew from his seat by the fireplace. If Fili sensed
Thorin’s eyes upon him, he did not show it. Instead, he went about clearing the
dishes from where the company had piled them on the table and then he refilled
Dwalin’s ale. When Dwalin grabbed Fili’s hand, the lad fell almost lifelessly
into his mate’s lap and let himself be pulled into a rough and boisterous kiss.
The frown deepened in Thorin’s brow. He had never seen Fili so joyless. And
Dwalin – he seemed more energetic than ever.
Balin had been right. If left to choose for love, Fili would choose poorly.
Thorin narrowed his eyes bitterly. It should have been him. Dwalin could never
love Fili as Thorin might have. Thorin would have strengthened Fili, and Fili
would have brought joy back into life for the king without a kingdom. They
would have nurtured each other towards their crowns and their destinies.
But now, that future had been lost. Watching Fili now, it soon became apparent
to Thorin that Fili couldn’t even rule himself anymore, much less a kingdom.
Thorin turned back to stare at the fire. He felt guilty for thinking it, but
the throne was a terrible burden. It was obvious that Fili could not take that
now.
A loud and raucous laugh from Kili brought Thorin out of his brooding. He
glanced across the room at his other nephew. Once again, Kili had drunk too
much, and was now in the process of hauling a reluctant Ori up onto the table
to join him in song. Thorin watched Kili and gave a low, unhappy sigh.
Kili would come of age soon, Thorin knew. It would be a few years still, but
before Thorin was too old. Kili was rash and childish and disobedient at times,
but he had the thirst for adventure that if trained right would make him a bold
and fearless leader. And his heart was good, like Fili’s. That gave Kili the
potential to be just in his ruling. He would not be a strong king, perhaps, nor
a heroic one for the songs, but at least he wouldn’t be weak. Thorin knew all
too well what happened to weak dwarvish kings.
It was not in keeping with tradition to deny an elder brother his inheritance.
But Thorin knew that as much as he loved tradition, as much as he loved Fili,
he could not let the lad take the throne. Not anymore.
He watched the fire dance, and made up his mind to speak with Kili.
Three more days had passed and they were deep in Mirkwood before he finally
figured out how to confront his nephew. But by then, fate had changes its plans
for the line of Durin. And when Thorin had been captured by elves and thrown
into a stinking elvish cell, he had missed yet another opportunity. Now, he had
nothing to do but resent himself for his failures.
***** Chapter 8 *****
Time had seemed to pass like an emotionless dream for Fili. He remembered
clearly the events that had happened since his heat, but felt nothing when he
thought about them. The goblins, Beorn’s house, Mirkwood with its enchanted
river and its spiders and its darkness; all were meaningless facts in his
memory. Except for the three emotions of lust, greed, and anger, which really
had nothing to do with recent events on the quest, Fili had felt nothing since
that second time Dwalin had taken him.
Those last three emotions left him too, soon after the elves had found them.
Weak and weary as they were and still full of the spiders’ poison, the dwarves
had barely resisted when the elves captured them. When they had been brought
before the elvish king and stripped of their weapons and forced to kneel before
the throne, then Fili had stopped feeling anything. Not even pride to be
wounded.
He hadn’t been able to explain their presence in Mirkwood, either, but not for
lack of trying. His mind had simply gone blank when Thranduil had questioned
him fiercely and had riddled his rehearsed story with holes. Balin had tried
frantically to cover for Fili and Dwalin had clamped Fili’s hand in a vice grip
that Fili knew meant fury, but he hadn’t even been able to feel the rage of his
mate.
When Thranduil finally tired of the interrogation, he motioned for the dwarves
to be taken from the throne room. Fili watched as the others were hauled off,
each by two shockingly strong elvish warriors, in varying states of fluster:
Gloin hurled insults in Khuzdul that did not bear repeating; Ori shook
terrified in his guards’ grip; Kili gaped, smitten, at the she-elf who hauled
him out. It was as if he’d entered his interim right there in the throne room.
Dwalin had fought so violently that he had needed to be bound and gagged. But
even when they dragged Fili’s mate from the throne room, the young prince had
felt nothing.
Only after Fili was the last one there, still kneeling on the floor before the
king of the wood elves, did he look back up at his captor.
Thranduil sat, still and silent, upon his throne. Two tall elvish guards stood
behind him. Another, this one blond and dressed in silvery-green robes, sat in
a second smaller throne to Thranduil’s right. All were watching Fili. All wore
the same vacant expression.
“You are brave to lie to protect your kin, Fili, son of Dis.” Thranduil’s voice
was as steady and cold as a glacier in the mountains. “Brave but foolish.”
“Not brave,” Fili corrected. “Clearly I cannot lie as well as others.”
“You will not tell me your mission if asked,” Thranduil said. Fili shook his
head no, and a small smile lifted the corners of Thranduil’s mouth. “I would
not either, if I were a homeless dwarf on a fool’s errand to reclaim that which
cannot be reclaimed.”
Fili had the sense that the words were meant to bait him. He had no trouble in
brushing them off.
“You already knew,” Fili deduced.
When Thranduil spoke again his voice had grown even colder.
“Of course I knew,” the king said. “And of course, I have no reason to permit
your kind to pass through my lands. Your very presence here is an insult to our
people.”
“And so you imprison us under the pretense that I lied to you.”
“Yes,” Thranduil said. “You and your king.”
“Thorin’s here.” The words sounded so very factual when Fili said them.
“You take that news lightly.” Thranduil leaned back on his throne and touched
his hand to his lips as if he had expected a different response. “Is he not
your uncle? And you, his precious heir?”
“I am Thorin’s heir, yes. But not precious. Just his heir.”
Thranduil gave a sound that almost sounded like a laugh. The elf seated to his
right furrowed his brow and looked from Fili to his king, then back to Fili.
“Everything is precious to a dwarf,” said Thranduil. “Including his vanity.
Tell me, Fili, were you actually reared by Thorin? Wherever did you learn to
restrain your pride?”
“Experience is a powerful teacher,” Fili said quietly.
“Indeed.” Thranduil arched an eyebrow. “How old are you?”
“Eighty-two.”
“Very young,” the king said. “What could a dwarf of your age ever have
experienced to give him such… reserve?”
Fili was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “Things that only a dwarf can
experience.”
He held the king’s gaze and had the sense that Thranduil was trying, and
failing, to intimidate him. Then he imagined that his mind was being searched.
When Thranduil found nothing, he narrowed his eyes at Fili in a calculating
glare.
“Legolas, take him to a cell,” Thranduil commanded. “Ensure that he experiences
the best of our hospitality.”
The elf in the smaller throne stood gracefully and descended the steps of the
dais, then came to Fili’s side and outstretched a slender hand. Fili took it,
rose, and let Legolas lead him out of the throne room by the elbow.
They walked silently down several flights of stairs and through maze-like
passageways that would disorient anyone but a Mirkwood elf. Occasionally
Legolas would glance down at Fili, assessing him. But this one, Thranduil’s son
and heir, had none of his father’s icy malice. When Legolas looked at Fili, it
was with curiosity, not suspicion.
Eventually they came to a long corridor with a series of small, barred doors in
the stone walls. As Legolas guided him to the last one, Fili saw through the
open doors that the other cells were empty. Wherever his company and his mate
were being held, it was not here. The dungeons were probably huge, he reasoned,
and he wondered why elves would need so vast a prison.
He went quietly into his cell and turned back at the sound of the door as it
closed.
Legolas gave him a small, unreadable frown through the bars, then disappeared
out of sight.
Left alone, Fili looked around his cell. It was a tiny, windowless room lined
from floor to ceiling in a pale, unadorned grey stone. A dim light from an
inexplicable source cast a bluish glow on the cell walls. Only a dark wooden
bucket in the corner, the matching dark wood of the door, and Fili’s own shadow
marred the uniformity of the place.
He found himself a seat in the corner of the cell and curled his knees to his
chest. The room was a little too cool for comfort and he pulled his fur-lined
coat closer around himself. Then, he sat in silence and listened to the sound
of his own breathing.
***** Chapter 9 *****
The first day in the dungeon passed and Fili felt only the physical. He was
thirsty until they brought him water, uncomfortable from the stone floor devoid
of straw to ease its hardness, and tired from the disorientation that Mirkwood
had imposed upon his senses. Hunger was there, too. If he had felt any desire
to eat, he might have tried the wafer-like bread they left for him. But want
was only a concept now.
On the second day – at least he thought it was the second day – he wondered
where his anger had gone.
Not my anger, Fili reminded himself. Dwalin’s.
He found it peculiar that Dwalin would be so calm within him. Dwalin hated
elves as much as Thorin, and the way that he had nearly crushed Fili’s fingers
in the throne room for getting them thrown into the dungeons had said as much.
But now, Fili felt a strange emptiness without Dwalin’s rage inside him.
On the third day the spider venom must have left his system because he was
starting to think more clearly. Dwalin was still nowhere to be felt inside him.
So Fili slept a little. He drank some water. He counted the stones in the cell
and listened to the occasional soft elvish voices of guards in the corridor.
And he sat in silence and solitude, waiting for Dwalin to feel within him.
Then they brought him his meal. This time, Fili actually found himself moved
enough to eat. He picked up the little square and turned it over in his hands,
noticing the deep, crisscrossed furrow across its center that quadrisected it
into neat little triangles. He broke the bread and took a bite and chewed, and
for the first time in days, felt something. What he felt then was comfort.
He took another bite of the bread and swallowed. Soon his hunger roared back to
life inside him at the feel of food in his belly. He found himself famished and
he finished the piece quickly, barely tasting the last half of it before he
washed it down with water. Then he dropped his head back and let out a low,
satisfied sigh and took pleasure in the gentle, buttery taste that lingered on
his tongue.
The bread gave him more than a momentary sense of enjoyment. It had been a
small piece, but it seemed to have filled up the emptiness inside him. Soon, he
felt less sluggish and a little more lucid.
But after a while, the sensations from the food faded. Soon the enjoyment of
the meal receded entirely back into the cloudy darkness of unfeeling. To pass
the time, Fili lay down upon the floor and stared up at the ceiling. Then he
counted the stones for what seemed like the thousandth time.
It was the sound of the lock on the door that made him stir. When he looked up
he saw Legolas, the elvish prince who had put him in this cell, entering
through the door. When Legolas was inside Fili heard someone else lock the
door, shutting them both inside.
“I apologize for the rude accommodations, Fili.” Legolas folded his hands
behind his back and adopted a diplomatic posture, but the way he said Fili's
name was as if they were old friends.
“It’s better than the cells we stick our prisoners in,” said Fili. “Some don’t
even get buckets. Legolas, is it not?”
"Yes." Legolas looked at him curiously. “I see you have eaten. We were growing
concerned.”
“Why?” Fili asked.
“Because Dwarves are not meant to be thin.”
Fili glanced down at himself. It was true, he had grown lean. He certainly
wasn’t as willowy as the prince who now stood in his cell, but he had indeed
fallen under the threshold of what was good for a dwarf. He imagined that if he
peeled off his layers of clothing, he’d find himself wasted to muscle and sinew
and bones without much fat for covering. No wonder he felt so cold.
“That bread,” Fili gestured to the empty plate. “It’s good.”
“Lembas,” Legolas said. “Plain, but filling. You looked as though you needed
the nourishment.”
“Well, thank you for it,” Fili said. He propped himself up against one of the
stone walls and drew his knees up in front of him. “Can I ask about my
companions?”
“Yes,” Legolas nodded. “They are well. Most have regained their… spirits… after
taking in food and water.”
Fili actually smiled a little at that. “They still have fight in them, then.”
Legolas returned Fili’s expression with a subtle grin of his own.
“May I ask about Dwalin?” Fili asked. “He’s the tallest of us. They had to bind
him when they took him out of the throne room.”
“Ah.” A flicker of recognition passed over Legolas’s eyes. “He refuses his
meals and yells at the guards in defiance.”
Fili frowned at that. “He is not angry?”
“‘Anger’ is not sufficient. ‘Boiling rage’ would be more precise.”
“Huh.”
Strange, Fili thought. How, if Dwalin was as furious as ever, had he not felt
it? How had he gone for three days, give or take, in an emotional void but for
the simple pleasure of a nicely flavored biscuit? He threaded his fingers
through his hair until they found the scar at the base of his skull, and he
scratched at it in confusion.
“You are fond of him,” Legolas assumed.
“He is my mate,” Fili said. He didn’t elaborate, not knowing how much that
meant to Legolas. But from the look on Legolas’s face it had clearly meant
something.
“I see,” Legolas said. “Then you might be content to know that he has been
well-treated.”
“Okay,” said Fili.
He began picking at a dried clump of dirt on his boot. When he looked up,
Legolas was still standing near the door, watching him intently.
“You cannot feel him, can you?” Legolas asked.
That got Fili’s attention.
“How do you know about that?”
“I know much about your people, Prince. I am young for my kind, but I have
already lived a long life and, to be truthful, it has not been a rich one.
Reading becomes a close companion in the absence of other friends.” Legolas
shifted his weight and inhaled deeply as if in thought. “Your people fascinate
me. You love adventure in a way that we elves do not, and you cherish life in
ways that we cannot.”
“And,” Fili said slowly, “our mating ways are in your books?”
“I have read that a close bond is forged when two dwarves mate. Through it, the
mates are given perception and can read one another’s hearts.” Legolas came
over to Fili and sat beside him on the floor. He seemed almost ghostly in the
dim light of the cell. “Elves have senses that range beyond those of other
races, and our ability to know the feelings of others increases with age and
wisdom. But that power is never as strong as that which is held by mated
dwarves. While we observe emotions, you are immersed in them; we are
bystanders, but you feel your mate as if he is you. Not even my father has
perception that strong.”
“Then why can’t I feel him now?”
“Because you are in our lands,” said Legolas. “Our magic suppresses the
perceptions of anyone who is not an elf.”
Fili gave a low “hmmm,” and then was silent. He continued to pick the dirt from
his boots and thought about it. That explained the relief and the sense of
quiet in his mind. But it did not explain the emptiness that had replaced
Dwalin’s presence within his heart. It did not explain why he could not feel
anything beyond what a meager piece of bread had briefly coaxed out of him.
“In truth, your ability to overcome my father’s perception was what landed you
here,” Legolas said quietly. “He could read the hearts of every member of your
company, but not you. Even when he had you alone, he could not sense your
emotions.”
Fili did not tell Legolas that it was because he had no longer had them.
“He had planned to release you all, including your uncle, but only after Thorin
knew full well that the release would be made at my father’s leisure. He wanted
to puncture Thorin’s inflated vanity.” Legolas shook his head. “They have a
strange history, your uncle and my father. They were once friends. But both
felt betrayed by the actions of the other, and both are too proud to admit
their own faults. What you did in the throne room touched on my father’s pride,
and for that he may never release you.”
“I did nothing,” Fili said. Unless they counted his pitiful attempt at a cover
story. But that seemed hardly relevant to what Legolas told him now.
“It is precisely because you did nothing that my father was so enraged,”
Legolas said. “He wanted to see you, Thorin’s heir, in action. But then you
were so calm. That intrigued him at first. Calmness is so rare a trait in a
dwarf. But then when he wanted to know your mind, to gain a deeper sense of
your character, he could not. You managed to block him out.”
“Well, whatever I did,” Fili said, “it was completely unintentional.”
As he listened to the sound of his own voice, he realized that Legolas was
right. He sounded so passive that he might have been drugged. It was unlike him
to be so deadened.
“You are doing it now, Fili.” Legolas probed Fili intensely with his deep and
ageless blue eyes. “I cannot sense what you are feeling. Either you mask your
heart very well, or you truly feel nothing.”
“I do feel things,” Fili said, sounding hollow. “I enjoyed the bread.”
“I know,” said Legolas. “I was waiting for something like that.”
“So you have been tracking my mind all this time, waiting for me to feel
something?”
Legolas nodded.
It should have felt violating, but nothing could be as traumatic as having
Dwalin in his heart.
“There,” Legolas said suddenly. “Sadness. But only for a moment.”
Fili frowned. He searched himself and felt nothing but the void, but maybe he
had felt something a moment ago.
“How do you do that?” Legolas asked.
“Do what?”
“Turn off your heart like that?”
Fili scratched his thumb on the scar on the back of his neck again. The gesture
had become something of a habit.
“I think it’s more like turning it on, really.”
Legolas was silent at that. A look of sorrow passed through his eyes for a
brief moment. Then it was gone.
They sat in silence until Legolas gave Fili a small, kindly smile and stood.
“If you wish it, I can take you to bathe,” he said. “We can wash your clothing
as well. Mirkwood is not kind to travelers, and I hope you will forgive me for
saying this, but it seems to have been harder on you than your companions.”
Fili imagined then how haggard he must look. He left it unsaid that Mirkwood
had only made him dirty and tired and a bit weak from the poison, that instead
it was the burden of adulthood that had made him so frail and weary. An old
dwarf before his time, he thought.
He silenced his mind and took Legolas’s outstretched hand. Legolas led him to
the door and knocked, said something in Sindarin to the elf that appeared
outside, and the door was opened. This time, as Legolas escorted Fili through
the passageways, it felt less like they were captor and prisoner and more like
they could be friends.
He hoped that Legolas could sense that.
After a long time of climbing stairs and walking through pale stone corridors,
they finally emerged into an outdoor garden encircled by ancient trees. Fili
frowned when he saw the bathhouse. Around some slowly flowing water, the elves
had erected an ornate gazebo of dark, ornately carved wood. It was more like a
glorified hole in the earth than a bath. But then he saw the steam rising from
the water and realized that it was a hot spring, not some cold, unpleasant,
dank forest pool. It struck Fili then that the elves were more civilized than
Thorin had led him to believe. He silently made a note to himself that he would
seek peace between their peoples when he ascended to Erebor’s throne.
Then he thought of Dwalin and his brief moment of hope disintegrated. There
would never be peace between elves and dwarves, Fili thought sadly. Not with
Dwalin sharing his soul. Not with his mate buried like a thorn in his heart. He
sighed heavily, pushed his melancholy back down into the well of unfeeling
where it belonged, and turned his attention to the task at hand.
He left Legolas at the base of the gazebo and approached the bath. There at the
water’s edge he stripped off his filthy layers of clothing and dropped them in
a pile on the stone floor. When he got to the layer closest to his skin he
hesitated a moment, not sure of what he would see – what Legolas might see –
but he tugged the tunic off anyways. When he assessed himself, his heart seemed
to skip a beat.
He had expected the thinness. What caught him so off guard was the mottled
color of his skin. A grimy layer of sweat and lint and dirt had caked over
mottled shades of purple and green and yellow flesh. Few of the bruises, he
knew, were from injuries sustained on the quest. More were from Dwalin’s hands.
Fili swallowed down the lump in his throat and quickly slid into the bath. The
bruises disappeared into the water as Fili hid them from himself as much as
from Legolas, who still stood some distance away.
The water was blisteringly warm, almost too warm on his skin. The heat of it
stung on the sensitive and sensitized places of his body and he fixated his
attention on the burn of it until his body got used to the water. Then he
poured his attention into getting himself clean. It took a long time and
several washings with a thin, odorless soap that barely cut through the grime
on his body. He scrubbed the filth from his hair and left it unbraided and
hanging limply about his shoulders. Then when he was clean, he stayed in the
bath until the natural, gentle current of the spring took the soap and the dirt
and the lingering memories away. Finally, he got out.
He stepped over his dirty clothing and pulled a long, silky towel from a shelf
and quickly hid himself in it. On one of the benches, someone had left a folded
stack of clothing for him. He dressed before he was dry. The clothing was too
long and a little too tight across the shoulders, and its flowing fabric clung
in places to his still-damp skin. No matter. At least he was covered.
When he rejoined Legolas outside the gazebo, the elvish prince gave him that
unreadable expression once again, but said nothing. Fili thanked him quietly
for his kindness and let Legolas guide him back to his prison in silence.
The cell was much as they had left it except for a few minor changes. Someone
had left him a small stack of blankets, two additional squares of Lembas bread,
and a tall tankard of water just inside the door. The bucket had been emptied
and cleaned.
Fili thanked Legolas again for his hospitality and disappeared into his cell.
When he was left alone, he made the blankets into a small bed in the corner and
sat down up upon them and dug into the Lembas bread. He couldn’t finish more
than one square before his stomach groaned in protest, too full after being
empty for so long. He set the rest of the bread aside and drank some water and
then, satiated and warm, he fell back upon the blankets and gave a long, low
sigh of relief.
When he drifted off into sleep, it was into a dreamless, inky blackness devoid
of time or sensation or pain.
***** Chapter 10 *****
Thorin sat in the corner of his cell, brooding. He felt more surly than usual,
if that was even possible.
Out of sheer obstinacy, he had refused the food they had left for him since his
capture. Instead of eating the thin and watery gruel, he had preferred to dump
it in his shit bucket. A sign of his regard for his captors. After three rounds
of meals, they had stopped wasting the food. Just as well, too, otherwise by
now he might have sunk to eating it.
The hunger had, at least for a little while, given him something to think
about. Imagining great feasts in vast, high halls was better than going back
over other less pleasant memories. But after several days, when the hunger had
begun to ebb, the thoughts of his failings came back to him. In the absence of
distraction, what began as the occasional negative thought soon grew into a
seamless litany of torments. They bubbled up now unbidden from the recesses of
his mind to haunt him.
Soon he started to realize his grandfather’s love of solitary in breaking the
enemy.
Now, several days in, most of his thoughts were bitter. But one was worse than
the rest. In Thorin’s memory, Fili sat beside him on the bench by the water in
Rivendell, saying over and over and over again, “I have chosen Dwalin as my
mate.”
I could have never loved you, Fili might as well have said.
Thorin bellowed in fury at the empty walls. He grabbed his bucket and hurled it
against the door. The thing bounced off unharmed, spewing its contents across
the wall in a vile mess. He yelled again until his throat was hoarse and he
banged his fists on the floor. When his own bitter voice inside his head
condemned his childishness, he damned it. Then he damned this quest and Erebor,
the stupid throne and his own cursed heritage and kin. He damned Dwalin for
stealing his mate and he damned his dwarvish nature for denying him all hope of
taking Fili back. Then above all, he damned Fili for unmaking him.
He let out a shuddering sob and sank to the floor. He wiped a heavy hand across
his eyes and realized he was crying. He sniffed back the rest of his tears but
the stink from his bucket stung suddenly in his nostrils. The shame consumed
him then. He buried his head between his knees and stilled himself.
He was a king, and kings did not act like this.
He regained his composure quickly. He stood and took a wide, proud stance in
the center of his prison. He folded his arms and stared at the door and waited.
Finally someone came to his cell. The wispy, boring-looking elf gave Thorin a
little arch of her brow, said nothing, and began to clean up the mess. Thorin
glared at her the whole time and she ignored him. She took his bucket when she
finished and returned some time later with a clean one. She also gave him a
tankard of clean water.
Then she was gone.
Alone again, Thorin sat back down. He massaged the headache that had grown
beneath his furrowed brow. Then he yawned and let his head fall back against
the wall. He closed his eyes. He did not remember when he had grown so weary.
When sleep took him, it did so gently.
When he dreamed, he dreamed of a golden prince seated at his right hand, his
heir and Cherished One. Hair and beard in regal braids, a crown of mithril upon
his head. Fili looked up at Thorin on his throne and gave him a loving smile.
In that moment, all was as it should be. All was perfect.
Then Fili’s smile faded. The light went out of his eyes. From behind his throne
a black and swirling shadow emerged and swiftly consumed him. The darkness grew
and filled the halls of Erebor and Thorin was thrust into the darkness,
grasping for a hand he couldn’t reach. He screamed out Fili’s name but heard
only the whistling wind.
At last the fog of war began to fade. When the smoke cleared there was nothing
left of Fili but dusty bones in a tomb of stone.
* * * * *
When Thorin awoke it was to the face of his nemesis.
“Hello, old friend.”
He gave a startled yell and shot to his feet. He scrambled for his weapons but
quickly remembered he had none. He balled his hands into fists for a fight.
Thranduil merely gave him a cool smile. “You reacted very differently when last
I found you in a cell.”
Thorin fumed as at the memory came back unbidden. “Haven’t you got something
better to do with your time?” He spat.
“Such as running a kingdom?”
“If I had a sword I would kill you for the insult.”
“If I wanted to fight you, do you think I would do it in a cell?” Thranduil
narrowed his eyes at Thorin. “It would be in war, Thorin. You are a king after
all, and deserve to die in battle.”
Thorin scowled, but dropped his fists. Then he folded his arms across his
chest.
“What do you want?” He demanded.
“I was curious about your companions,” Thranduil said. He adopted an expression
that Thorin thought made him look like a snake.
“I have no companions,” Thorin lied.
It was the same lie he’d used when Thranduil had captured him. The elf hadn’t
believed it then, and he didn’t believe it now.
“Then the twelve dwarves in my cells are not your companions,” Thranduil said
slowly, “despite the fact that two are your nephews and many more are your kin,
and all were caught in Mirkwood within mere days of your capture?”
Thorin bristled. Thranduil raised his eyebrows.
“So they are your companions,” Thranduil smiled. “You do not hide your heart
well, old friend.”
“I am not your friend,” Thorin said bitterly.
“Fine,” Thranduil conceded. “What we had was certainly not friendship.”
Thorin said nothing to that. He felt his scowl deepen as the gleam in
Thranduil’s eye brought him back to that night in Erebor and the unfortunate
timing of becoming an adult while the elves paid homage to the dwarves. He had
been locked in a cell for more than a week, riding out the heat. By then, even
the elf had seemed attractive. And though he had missed the ceremony, the elf
king had found him anyways. Like fucking a goat, it had quenched the need, but
the shame of it still haunted him.
“Your nephews,” Thranduil said, smile widening. “They are fair. The line of
Durin, indeed.”
“You leave them alone!” Thorin snapped at him. “Your quarrel is with me.”
“I have no quarrel with them. Nor truly any interest. Not after knowing how
dwarves treat their lovers when the act is done.”
“You broke the heat, nothing more!”
“I know.”
Thranduil came in close and leaned in over Thorin. At this distance Thorin
could smell the trees on the elf king’s skin and the cleanliness of his
clothing. Thorin still stank of the road and was glad that the smell was
offensive.
“How does it feel to know that the one you love does not return your favor?”
“Damn you, get out of my head!”
Thorin shoved Thranduil back. The elf king swiftly sidestepped and grabbed
Thorin’s hand and swept him off balance. Then he pulled Thorin close and
tightened strong, slender fingers around his neck. Thorin struggled but
Thranduil held him fast.
“You need to listen to me.” The sudden darkness in Thranduil’s voice made
Thorin go still. “Because you are beneath me, you should consider my words a
favor. But I tell you this because keeping it a secret jeopardizes my people.
And even if you do not retake the Lonely Mountain, someone of your line will.
And whether in a hundred years or a thousand, I will still be king, and our
lands will still be neighbors.” He dropped his words to a whisper and spat them
harshly into Thorin’s ear. “Someone has poisoned your line.”
Thorin’s blood ran cold. “What does that mean?”
“That nephew of yours and his mate,” Thranduil hissed. “If you retake Erebor,
they will kill you and steal your throne.”
“No!” Thorin yelled. He slammed his fist into Thranduil’s groin.
The elf king gave a pained cry and let him go. The cell door banged open behind
him and Thorin felt four sets of hands pushing him down to the groud. He fought
them too, but they pinned him to the stone.
“You stupid, arrogant dwarf!” Thranduil spat once he had recovered. “I am
trying to help you! But now I see that you care more about your pride than
about the future of your kind. I fear for your people, pathetic as they are.
You are unworthy to call yourself a king.”
Thranduil drove his boot hard into Thorin’s face.
Thorin felt his nose pop with the impact and suddenly blood was gushing into
his nostrils. He growled in pain and heard the retreating footsteps of the
irate elvish king and his lackeys. The door slammed closed and he was left
alone again, reeling from his bleeding nose and filled with the terrible
feeling that he had been wrong, so wrong, about everything.
***** Chapter 11 *****
“May I join you?”
Legolas’s face had appeared in the little window in Fili’s door. When Fili
nodded, the door was unlocked and the other prince joined him in the cell.
Legolas carried a tray with a pair of flagons and two bowls of steaming food.
When he sat down, Legolas handed Fili a bowl full of a stew that, by elvish
standards, was downright hearty. Chunks of some Mirkwood creature floated
between strange vegetables that Fili didn’t recognize. But the stew was truly
delicious, went well with the lembas, and over the past several days had helped
Fili regain some weight.
When they finished their bowls they took up their flagons and drank together.
Fili’s drink was a dark, rich beer from Laketown. Legolas drank a strong elvish
wine that not even dwarves could stomach. Fili had been warned not to try it.
The stuff was a mixture of fermented grapes and trees, and would make Fili go
blind if he drank it. In order to feel an effect, Legolas had told him, elves
needed to ferment wood along with the grain or berries. Yet again, the ways of
the elves surprised Fili.
Legolas had first brought the drinks a little more than a week ago. Over that
time, the beer had helped to bring Fili out of his darkness. Legolas’s presence
helped, too. He asked him a lot of questions. They were mostly about Fili’s
people, about their adventures and about their ways, and Legolas said little
about his own kind. But there had been a moment, just once when they’d had too
much from their flagons, where Legolas had exposed a little part of himself by
saying, “I wish our two kinds were better friends.”
Fili hadn’t said anything to that, but after a few days of thinking he’d
decided it was a question. Now, he'd come up with an answer.
“We probably don’t get along because we feel things so very differently,” Fili
told Legolas as they sipped their beers. “You said that your people watch
emotions, but we are immersed in them. There’s truth to that. We dwarves feel
very strongly. It’s why we war so much, I suppose. We’re quick to offend and
hard to forgive, but loyal and deeply trusting once a friendship is forged.”
Legolas took a sip of wine, considered it, and nodded.
“You are right,” he said. “Our kind live so long that we learn to govern
ourselves almost entirely without feeling. It is not that we do not feel.
Rather, we do not let it control us.”
“Hmm.” Fili drank from his flagon and listened to the silence around him. Then
he asked softly, “What went wrong with me?”
Legolas was silent for a long time. He looked away into the distance and his
face took on that passive, timeless, and emotionless expression that only elves
could make. Finally, he said, “You were raped.”
The words should have hit him harder than they did. But it was a simple fact.
And facts didn’t warrant feelings.
“How do you know about that?”
“I have seen Dwalin’s heart,” said Legolas. “I cannot read his thoughts, so I
cannot know for certain, but you are mated dwarves. And seeing your disparate
ways, I came to conclude the worst.”
“I did say we were mates, didn’t I?”
“He feels things that only a lover might feel," Legolas said. "He feels them
often, and most likely about you. He is angry. He is jealous, and he is lonely,
and he thinks that he loves you. But he hates you, too.”
This time, Legolas’s words did sting.
“Why?” Fili asked. “I mean, I know why he did what he did. But why does he have
to feel that way about me?”
“Because he is unstable,” Legolas said. “Dwarves feel deeply, but Dwalin does
more than most. He feels too much to be healthy, even for your kind. And his
heart has overwhelmed yours and driven your spirit into submission.”
Fili winced. It sounded so much worse when said by someone else.
Legolas looked at him sadly. “I am sorry to make you hurt, my friend.”
“No.” Fili took in a deep breath and pushed his emotions away. “It’s true.”
“Do not do that,” Legolas said quickly. “Do not hide it. He cannot feel you
here.”
“It’s not him I’m worried about.”
That was only a half-truth, Fili knew. He was afraid of Dwalin. He was
terrified, in fact. Everything that he had felt since Rivendell had been used
as a weapon against him, and Dwalin was so much more powerful at any type of
war than Fili was.
But now, here in Mirkwood, that was not what held him back. To defend himself
from Dwalin, he had built himself a wall. Behind it, he had stored away every
dwarvish emotion until they had been piled up, one on top of another. Without
the fresh air of expression, the feelings had begun to fester, like meat stored
wrongly in a granary. On the few rare occasions when he dared peek into that
mess, the ugliness terrified him and he retreated, and he added more stones to
the wall.
What Legolas was asking him to do now was to tear down the wall, to feel all
those things that Fili did not want to feel. He was asking Fili to face the
decay that had grown inside him and to muck out the deepest wounds of his
spirit before the necrosis killed him.
He wasn’t ready to do that.
Legolas sensed that, too.
“This is a safe place,” Legolas said. “Out there is not. If you leave here
without facing your demons, you will never be whole again.”
Fili frowned. He stared at his half-finished beer. He then drained the flagon,
set it aside, and drew his knees to his chest.
“I don’t even know where to start,” he whispered.
“Perhaps,” Legolas said slowly, “I could ask you a question. I will say the
name of something or someone. You tell me what you are thinking. Then you tell
me how you are feeling.”
Fili considered it. He scratched the scar on the back of his neck.
“Okay,” he said at last.
“Very well.” Legolas drained his wine. “But let’s not start until tomorrow.”
Fili nodded, relieved. Then he paused, considered it, and when he decided that
relief was a feeling, he let himself have it.
***** Chapter 12 *****
Fili was lying back upon the blankets and was staring at the ceiling. His
clothing had been cleaned and returned to him. It felt good to be in garments
that fit.
Legolas sat cross-legged beside him. When he spoke, he said, “Tell me about
your brother.”
Fili felt the wall looming.
“Couldn’t we start with something simpler?”
“I thought that was simple.”
Fili scoffed a little, but then he thought about it for a moment and finally
said, “He’s my best friend.”
“How many years are between you?”
“Five,” Fili said. “We’re nearly twins. But he seems much younger, now.”
“Why do you think that is?”
“Because I’m an adult,” Fili replied. He scratched his beard in thought, then
compared it to Kili’s stubble. Five years ago, Fili had been fully bearded. It
hadn’t been as thick as it was now, and he couldn’t yet braid his moustache,
but it had still been the real thing. “Kili’s still a dwarfling. He’s just a
lad.”
“You care about him,” Legolas said.
“Of course I do. He’s my brother, how could I not?”
“Of course,” Legolas acknowledged softly. He changed the subject. “Tell me
about yourself. Something that you like to do.”
Fili frowned, puzzled. Why is he asking me this? But he shrugged and said the
first thing that popped into his mind.
“I like to sing,” he said. “All dwarves do, but I really love it. I’m not good.
Thorin’s better. But I like to do it anyways.”
He was silent for a while. Legolas remained still beside him.
Fili sighed.
“I don’t sing much anymore.”
* * * * *
“What is elvish music like?” Fili asked his friend.
They were sitting on opposite walls from one another. Legolas had brought a
small, round piece of wood wrapped in layers of leather and they tossed it back
and forth across the cell.
“It is quiet,” Legolas said. He tossed Fili the ball. “Gentle.”
Fili smiled. “Do you have drinking songs?”
Legolas returned Fili’s expression as he caught the ball.
“In a way,” he said. “We usually sing alone, but when the wine flows, we sing
together. The songs we sing are the same, just more of us are singing.”
“I’d like to hear it,” Fili said. He caught the ball. Then he imagined a chorus
of tall, slender elves. The slightest flush of wine and song in their cheeks, a
series of gentle harmonies, but otherwise as reserved as their kind always
were.
Nothing like dwarves when drinking.
* * * * *
“My brother and I used to sing after a hunt,” Fili told Legolas. “He’d sing the
low part and I’d take the melody. His voice has always been deeper than mine.
We’d use the song to celebrate as we skinned a deer or an elk, and it was fun
when we did it.”
He scratched the scar at the base of his skull.
“Now it just seems morbid, singing after a slaughter.”
* * * * *
“Tell me about your uncle.”
Fili drew in a quick breath through his nose. He pulled himself back behind the
wall and hid from the memory of Thorin.
“I don’t want to talk about him just yet.”
“Very well,” Legolas said.
They talked about music again. Legolas sang something beautiful and haunting in
Sindarin, and when Fili asked about it, Legolas said it was a lullaby.
* * * * *
When Legolas asked again about Thorin, Fili was more prepared. Still, he had to
take a deep breath before speaking in order to calm his voice.
“He’s a good leader,” he said. “He helped our people recover after Smaug stole
our homeland. He worked hard, much harder than most kings do. Most leaders are
content to sit on their thrones and watch their people toil, but not my uncle.
He got down there and worked the forge along with the common folk, and no one
would know he was a king but for his pride. He’s proud because he’s of Durin’s
line, but also because he brought us back from death.”
* * * * *
“Do you love your family?”
Legolas and Fili were sitting back to back this time. It had seemed an odd
position when Legolas had proposed it, but when the elf prince spoke, his voice
resonated between their bodies.
“I do,” Fili said. “Especially my brother.”
“You would do anything to protect him.”
Fili felt Legolas’s voice deep in his chest. Soothing next to his heartbeat.
“I would die for him.”
* * * * *
“Tell me more about Thorin.”
“I love him,” Fili said.
He was flat on his back again, knees folded and feet flat upon the floor.
Legolas lay next to him, hands folded upon his chest, long legs stretched out
with feet pressed together. A burial position.
“I love Thorin so much. When I came of age, I wanted him to be my Cherished
One, but I didn’t know he felt the same until it was too late.”
He felt something open up inside him then. Something hurt deep and aching, and
when he went to draw breath it entered his lungs in a shudder.
“I learned that Thorin loved me the morning after Dwalin… after…”
After Dwalin raped me and stole my heart and took my body and broke it, and me
right along with it. After Dwalin destroyed me.
“I still love Thorin, but I can’t undo what happened.”
* * * * *
“Are dwarves supposed to feel this way?” Fili asked.
“How do you mean?”
“I still love Thorin. A part of me still wants him for a mate. But I am already
mated, bonded to another.” Fili shook his head in confusion and rubbed at his
scar. “Can that bond ever be broken?”
Legolas was silent. He traced a slender finger on a seam between stones in the
wall beside him, and when he spoke, his voice was hollow.
“I am sorry to say that you will always feel Dwalin in you even if he dies. The
bond between souls can never be broken so long as one dwarf still lives.
Distance might weaken it, but time will make it stronger. And he will always
know your heart unless you remain here, in Mirkwood.”
“Then I would stay in this cell until I died.”
Legolas said nothing, but the brief look that passed through his eyes told Fili
that that was impossible.
* * * * *
“When he raped me, it was the most painful thing that ever happened to me.”
Legolas stayed silent.
“I bled for almost a week. I couldn’t” – The memory was repulsive so he spat it
out. “I couldn’t control my body for more than a day. It’s a good thing dwarves
on the road smell like shit to start with because no one seemed to notice.”
* * * * *
“You know about the heat,” Fili said quietly.
When Legolas had joined him in his cell, Fili had embraced him like kin. Now
they lay on the floor together. Both were fully clothed and pressed close,
Fili’s back to Legolas’s chest. The size difference between their bodies made
him feel like a child again, and Legolas his yellow-haired father.
“When it happened, I wanted Dwalin so badly. I didn’t even know that was
possible. I hated him. I hated myself too, for wanting him.”
“It was not you, but your body.” Legolas’s words were steady and countered the
shakiness in Fili’s voice. “You are a dwarf, and that is how your body works.
You are not to blame for how you reacted that night.”
Fili gave a soft sob. He felt the tears upon his cheek and made no move to stem
their flow.
“But what about after?” He asked. “Dwalin kept hurting me after that. Every
night. Sometimes twice, three times. And I wanted it. I liked it when he held
me down. I enjoyed the pain. And – and I liked serving him. His slave.”
“He enjoyed doing that to you, Fili. Through the bond it felt like the emotion
was yours, but it was not. Everything you felt was a lie.” Legolas fell silent,
then said, “Tell me what you feel about him now.”
Fili sucked in breath as a hiss and when he expelled it, he filled his words
with his hatred.
“I want to kill him. I want to skin him alive and pull his innards out through
his groin with my bare hands. I want to leave his body for the crows on the
slopes of Erebor, and I want to grind his bones into dirt. He does not deserve
to be buried in stone when he dies.”
Legolas was silent behind him. But Fili felt him give a slow, steady nod.
* * * * *
“There is something you must know about Dwalin.”
Fili and Legolas had resumed more distant positions. They sat against opposite
walls of the cell, facing each other.
“Dwalin has been in isolation for more than a month,” Legolas said. “Whereas
the rest of your companions have been kept together, Dwalin has been held alone
for his own safety and that of the other dwarves. It was not my decision. I
know how damaging solitude can be. But my father thought it was for the best.
Unfortunately, Dwalin has not taken well to being alone. He has convinced
himself that Thorin is a threat to his relationship with you. His jealousy has
grown tremendously. I fear that if you leave this place, he will harm you and
use you as a weapon against your uncle. He plans to kill Thorin. He may also
kill your brother. Anyone he sees as a threat to your throne – his throne – he
will murder.”
Fili sat emotionless as Legolas revealed the devastating truth.
“I can’t let that happen,” Fili said.
“No,” Legolas agreed. “No, you cannot.”
* * * * *
When Fili heard the lock in the door he looked up, expecting Legolas, but no
one was there. Then suddenly Bilbo materialized in the room.
“Fili, come quickly!” The hobbit beckoned him, glanced quickly over his
shoulder, and seemed to grow more frantic when Fili didn’t move. “Come on! I’m
getting you out of here.”
Fili was frozen in place. He didn’t want to leave.
Leaving meant rape. It meant Dwalin in his mind again. It meant that the wall
that he and Legolas had worked so hard to tear down would be rebuilt.
“Did you free the others?”
“You’re the last. Hurry!”
If he left he would be a slave once more.
But staying meant death. Not his, but Thorin’s. Kili’s.
He leapt to his feet, swallowed his despair, and ran out of the cell after
Bilbo.
***** Chapter 13 *****
Fili knew they had left elvish lands when he felt the rush of Dwalin flooding
into his mind. After being without him for weeks, it was like being plunged
headlong into an icy river without first catching a breath.
Fitting, it seemed. The hobbit had smuggled them out in the sewers, hidden away
in barrels. They had been buffeted about by the river until they were all
spluttering, drenched, and weary all over again. When the waters finally
emerged from the darkness of Mirkwood, Fili was soaked to the bone. Disoriented
once more, much like after Rivendell.
Dwalin was inside him by then, strong and terrified as a bull who’d found a
hornet’s nest. Fili quickly took shelter behind the rubble of his wall. But in
his madness, Dwalin had barely noticed that Fili had felt him again. Warily,
Fili assessed the situation. For that brief moment, he knew he had control.
The barrels lurched to a hard stop against a manmade shore. Fili scrambled out
of his barrel and swiftly helped Bilbo bring the others to the landing. As he
reeled in Dwalin’s barrel, Fili prepared himself for the inevitable physical
assault.
When Dwalin reached the shore he leapt out of his barrel and smashed into his
mate. They went down on the dock and Fili gave a startled cry when he felt
Dwalin’s hands upon him. But the touch was desperate, not angry. It was needy
and yearning, not hateful or greedy or full of anything but the sweet sensation
of relief.
“By Mahal, you’re safe.”
Dwalin cradled Fili to his chest and rocked him in his arms and Fili, startled
by his mate’s reaction, could only return the embrace.
Remarkably, Dwalin didn’t seem to sense Fili’s sudden urge to gut him. Perhaps
it was the overwhelming power of emotion, the rush of having Fili inside him
again that made Dwalin so unaware. That wouldn’t last, Fili knew. So for a
sweet moment he savored his precious hatred, then hid it away for safekeeping
in the fortress the wall had become. There, he’d let it fester. For now, the
façade would serve.
He kissed his mate and held him close. He was so glad to have him back. So
glad, so very glad.
In a moment of tenderness, Dwalin pressed his lips upon Fili’s forehead. Fili
touched Dwalin’s beard and smiled, and kissed him.
Only when the others started to grouse and Fili felt Kili’s finger in his side
did the two lovers break apart. Fili rubbed his hand through Kili’s soggy hair
and Kili returned the gesture by sweeping Fili up into a bear hug and spinning
him about until they both went crashing to the ground. Through it, Dwalin
stayed close by his mate, quiet as he let the brothers share in their
affection.
Then he took up Fili’s hand once more, and together they walked into Laketown.
* * * * *
Fili had been right. Dwalin’s calm didn’t last. It never did for long. That
night after the meal, Dwalin took what was his.
A month of rest and hearty food had healed Fili’s body. Half of the wounds in
his soul, too, had been nursed back to health. But that night, Dwalin ripped
them all open.
He fucked Fili hard and brutal upon the floor. They never did it in beds. They
had done it on stone that first night and in woods and caves and other rude
places ever since. During sex, the comforts of civilization only served as a
distraction from Fili’s pain. To get off, Fili needed the torture. It was the
way of his kind.
As Dwalin thrust powerfully into his guts, he wondered briefly how it might
have otherwise been. If he had been caressed instead of sliced with knives he
might not have liked to bleed during the act. If his sounds of lovemaking had
been encouraged instead of stifled, he might not have needed the gag. And if
this had been a dwarf of his choosing, he might have been an equal with his
lover. He might never have reveled in feeling so wonderfully, shamefully
powerless.
But he enjoyed it anyways, belonging to his mate. He cherished his bondage. And
when he shuddered out his orgasm and milked Dwalin into his body, he let Dwalin
feel just how good it felt to be used.
And when they collapsed together, Fili in blissful pain, he cried softly, as he
always did.
They both enjoyed that, too.
* * * * *
Dwalin snored, asleep in their shared bed. He was a sound sleeper, and didn’t
dream much.
It gave Fili some solitude.
As his mate slept, Fili resumed the ritual he had developed before Mirkwood. He
waited until Dwalin had dozed off in his arms, then he got up and cleaned his
body. He bandaged whatever needed it and rubbed salve into the aching spots
that would bruise if left unattended. He washed and combed out his hair, put in
his usual braids, and groomed his beard and moustache. He usually scrubbed any
stains from his clothing, but tonight they didn’t need it. Dwalin had stripped
him completely before he had raped him, and so the clothes were clean.
Here in the Laketown house, the bedroom had a dressing table. Attached to it
was a looking glass. Fili stared at his reflection as he made himself look
well. For a long time after, he watched the dwarf in the mirror. Handsome young
thing, he thought. Except the empty eyes. Dwarves didn’t have empty eyes except
those who had seen too much grief. He smiled at himself. Everything looked
better except those eyes. They stayed hollow, but if no one looked too closely,
perhaps they’d never notice.
He sighed and stood. He made to go back to the bed, but something stopped him.
A memory. It was a small one and a recent one, and it had feelings associated
with it, but he didn’t need to feel those anymore to remember the warning it
held.
He returned to the dressing table. There he pulled open some of the drawers,
searching. He found a comb, a brush for cleaning teeth, and some long, green
hair ribbons. In another drawer he found a quill and a half-empty pot of blue
ink. A third drawer was empty, but the fourth held paper. Not the sturdy stuff
of dwarves that could last for centuries, but there were several pages, and
they would have to do.
He dipped the quill in the ink and began to write in Khuzdul.
I am Fili, son of Dis, nephew and heir to Thorin Oakenshield, King under the
Mountain.
He set the quill down and looked at his runes. They weren’t pretty. Not
calligraphy like what Ori could do, or neat and precise like Thorin’s regal
hand. But they would suffice.
I am Fili, son of Dis. My mate is Dwalin, son of Fundin. When I came of age, I
did not choose my mate. The choice was made for me. Dwalin raped me to claim my
inheritance for his own.
I let him rape me so that he would not hurt my brother.
I let him rape me so that he would not kill me.
He proceeded to write down everything he remembered from the first assault. The
fight he had put up beforehand, the way Dwalin had overpowered him. The way he
had torn as he had been breached and the deep agony he had felt in his belly
when Dwalin was inside him. The words that had sealed their souls.
Then he wrote about the next time, and the time after that. His mouth, his
hands. The molestation. The random beatings. The things Dwalin had said to him
to cripple him.
What tiny bits of emotion he felt he suppressed beneath the facts. Emotion was
not welcome here. Only facts were important. Only the facts were real.
He ran out of paper before he could describe the heat. Just as well. The memory
was seared into his mind and was not going anywhere. He would get more paper in
the morning. Tomorrow night, after Dwalin had taken what he owned, Fili would
write again.
He searched the room for a place to hide the paper. He found a place, then
carefully folded the pieces of paper together. He bound them with a ribbon and
slid the makeshift journal into the narrow space between the headboard and the
bed frame. It disappeared out of sight. Unless someone had reason to look, no
one would find it there, not even the servants who came to change the bedding.
Task completed, Fili slid naked into the bed beside his mate. Dwalin murmured
something unintelligible in his sleep and instinctively pulled Fili close. Fili
snuggled up to him until his chest was pressed against Dwalin’s side, Dwalin’s
strong arm draped over his shoulders. And there, breathing in the scent of his
mate, Fili drifted off into sleep.
***** Chapter 14 *****
They had barely spent a night in Laketown before someone was pounding on Kili’s
bedroom door.
His headache from last night’s drinking thumped along with the noise. The
hangover hadn’t worn off yet. He groaned and yelled something angry at the
idiot who interrupted his sleep. Then the door banged open and Kili heard the
purposeful footsteps. He felt the hand upon his shoulder, shaking him roughly.
He opened his eyes, then squeezed them shut again against the morning light. He
groaned again and rolled over in bed. Instinctively he reached for his brother
before remembering that Fili would not be there.
“Kili, wake up.” It was Thorin.
“What?” Kili mumbled grumpily. “Go away.”
“Now.”
That tone got Kili moving.
He gave a groan and pulled himself up. Then he glowered at his uncle as Thorin
came into focus. Kili frowned. Thorin looked less annoyed with him than usual,
but he was no less surly.
“I must speak with you,” Thorin said. “Get up and get dressed. I’ll wait.”
Kili blinked blearily. Thorin took a seat in one of two chairs beneath a tall
window. Kili staggered to his feet. He used the bedside for balance until the
room stopped spinning, then he reached for his trousers and pulled them up and
laced them. He went to a small wash table in the corner. There he poured
himself a cup of water from a pitcher, downed it, and poured himself another.
Then he joined Thorin beneath the window.
“It couldn’t wait until after breakfast?” Kili said as he settled heavily
beside his uncle. He kicked out his feet, but his toes just barely scraped the
wooden floorboards.
“It’s about your brother.”
“Oh.” Kili hadn’t expected that.
“He has not been himself.”
Kili was still half asleep. He thought about Fili and nothing seemed too out of
place. But as the water replaced the alcohol in his head, he started to
remember the distinctly strange way that Fili had acted for months. He didn’t
know what to think about it. And now, he was still too groggy to know what to
say about it.
“He’s been a little quiet, maybe?” Kili said eventually.
“It is more than that.”
Kili frowned. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“I will be frank. When I chose Fili as my heir, it was because he was more
responsible and better at making decisions than you.”
“Oh,” Kili gave a wry laugh at the insult. “Thank you for that.”
“But Fili is not who he once was,” Thorin continued as if Kili hadn’t
interrupted him. “He has changed. He is hollow, empty. Weak. He made a terrible
decision when he chose Dwalin as his mate.”
Kili’s senses were coming back to him, and he thought again about that first
night after Rivendell.
He becomes a part of you… It’s hard to know sometimes whether what you’re
feeling is your own, or if it is his.
“Maybe Fili and Dwalin make a bad match,” he said.
“You think I’m blind to that?” The bitterness left Thorin’s voice only to be
replaced by sadness. “What is done is done, and Fili cannot be unmated. I asked
him, too, to be my mate.”
Kili’s jaw dropped. He gawked at Thorin who in turn stared off at the far wall,
avoiding Kili’s gaze.
“But he had chosen Dwalin the night before. I was warned not to let Fili choose
his mate but I did so anyways. I will not make that mistake again.”
“What are you saying?” Kili asked softly. When Thorin looked at him, Kili got
the distinct sense that he already knew.
“I am telling you as your king that when the time comes, I will choose your
mate for you.”
“And…” Kili swallowed. “May I ask who you would choose?”
“Myself.”
Kili inhaled sharply and let out a shocked noise. He quickly chugged half his
water so that he had an excuse not to respond.
“I know how you must feel now,” Thorin said as if he sensed Kili’s discomfort.
“You are still too young to understand. But when you are on the cusp of
adulthood, things will look very different. You may even find that you would be
happy to have me as a mate.”
Kili swallowed. Then he lowered his cup.
“Fili told me I should choose you,” he said at last.
“Did he?” Thorin seemed surprised. “Why?”
“He said that you would be a good mate,” Kili said. “And that you would love
me.”
“Do you agree with him?”
“I don’t know,” Kili shook his head. “I can’t even imagine what it’s like. Fili
said some things…” Things that frightened me. “… Things that sounded strange.”
“What did he say?”
“He said he could feel Dwalin within him. He felt what Dwalin felt.”
“That’s how it’s supposed to work, yes.”
“But Thorin…” Kili curled the fingers of both his hands around the mug and
stared at the water’s surface. “Fili couldn’t tell me why he chose Dwalin.”
“He had his reasons,” Thorin said. The bitterness had returned to his voice.
“Well, in any case, it’s done now.”
“Uncle…”
“Kili,” Thorin placed a hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “I do not want you to
repeat what I am going to tell you, especially to Fili. Do you understand me?”
Kili nodded warily. “Okay.”
“I am going to rename you as my heir.”
“What?” Kili was flabbergasted. “You can’t do that!”
“Without sons of my own, I am free to choose my successor. Now, I choose you.
And when the time comes, you will accept me as your mate. By your side, I will
teach you to rule as a king worthy of the line of Durin.”
“I… I can’t do that to him!” Kili shook his head furiously. “He is my brother!”
“Fili is nothing of the dwarf that I raised him to be! And I see it now– he
would be a weak king, a puppet. Dwalin would rule Erebor, not Fili.” Thorin
slammed his fist against the arm of his chair. “Weak dwarvish kings do not sit
the throne for long.”
“I don’t want this,” Kili whispered. “Please don’t ask me.”
Thorin narrowed his eyes at Kili. “No one asks to be king.”
Kili stared at the floor. Every bone in his body had seemed to turn to stone.
The room had gone oppressively quiet around him.
Thorin waited silently beside him.
“I don’t have a choice anymore, do I?” Kili whispered.
“No, you do not.”
Kili rubbed one hand against his stubbly cheek. Too stubbly for a king, he
thought. Too weak a beard for a ruler of dwarves.
Thorin got to his feet. “Get some breakfast,” he said. “When you are finished,
come and find me in the study. We’ll spend some time strategizing about how to
take back our homeland.”
With that, Thorin left him alone. Kili slumped in the chair as his uncle’s
footsteps faded down the hall. He let out a low curse in Khuzdul and tried to
make sense of what had just happened.
Wrong, he thought. It was all wrong.
This was not like Thorin. And Fili was no weakling.
Something terrible must have happened, he realized. Something somewhere, at
some time in the past several months. That didn’t narrow it down much. He
winced and concentrated harder.
In Mirkwood, maybe. But no, Fili had been different before that. It went back
farther. His thoughts went through the series of events on the quest and Fili’s
part in each of them. Beorn’s house, the eagles, Goblintown. The slow and
treacherous climb through the Misty Mountains. Rivendell. All the while, Fili
had been too silent and far too sober.
He rubbed his temples in thought.
Kili thought about Fili’s behavior. His brother was a quiet dwarf, but he was
still a dwarf. He was supposed to sing and drink and be more boisterous than
men, but now that Kili contemplated it, Fili had seemed so distant. A part of
the company still, but only in name, not spirit. They worked side by side
towards the same goal, but for months Fili had seemed lost in a world of his
own that ran parallel to that of the rest of theirs.
And in his frequent, happy drunkenness, Kili had been too stupid to even
notice.
The only time he could name as a starting point was that night beneath the tree
roots. He and Fili had sat in the shadows and Fili had seemed sad, so
inexplicably sad. It didn’t make any sense – he had just been mated, and he
smiled and said he was happy with Dwalin.
But now that Kili thought about it, other things that Fili had said had been
genuinely chilling. Kili missed a lot, but he had not missed the sorrow in his
brother’s words when he spoke of Thorin. Nor did he miss the way that Fili had
been unable to answer, Why? Of all the possible dwarves, Dwalin had been the
one Kili least expected Fili to choose.
He tried to remember exactly what Fili had said.
It hurts. It’ll get easier. The tiny flicker of terror in Fili’s blue eyes when
he’d said, He’s coming.
Kili shook his head.
Go back, he thought. The night before.
That was the last night of their shared youth, but Kili hadn't known it at the
time. Fili hadn’t known it either, Kili realized. When they had sat on the
oversized bench and pitched stones by the waterfall, neither had spoken about
sex, about Fili’s potential mate. And yet, Fili had made his choice not even an
hour later.
Dwalin had shown up, talked about the noise of the falls. The words trust and
treachery stuck in Kili’s mind. Words about an ambush.
Then everything fell into place. The cup fell from Kili’s fingers and shattered
on the floor.
“NO!” He jumped to his feet and sprinted after his uncle. “Thorin!”
Kili hollered for his king as he raced through the house. He bolted down the
stairs and shoved a startled Nori out of the way, who yelled after him for his
rudeness. Kili ran to the study, but didn’t see Thorin there.
“Where’s Thorin?” He cried at Nori when he burst back into the hallway.
“How should I know?” Nori grumbled. He folded his arms and stalked away, and
Kili took off through the kitchen. No one there. He tried the next door.
He came into the dining hall so quickly that he crashed headlong into another
dwarf.
“What’s all this?”
The voice twisted like a knife in his gut. Horrified, Kili looked up and saw
Dwalin peering down at him. Then he was furious.
“What did you do to him!?” Kili screamed.
Anger flared suddenly in Dwalin’s eyes. He swiftly closed the distance between
them and clamped a thick hand around Kili’s throat and hoisted him into the
air.
Kili gave a strangled noise as Dwalin tightened his grip. Kili reached behind
his back for his sword – but he didn’t have it. Dwalin then smacked him hard
against the wall and pinned him there.
Kili fought hard, kicking. But he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t make a sound.
He began to panic. He tried to pry Dwalin’s fingers from his neck.
Then Dwalin laughed. The bastard actually laughed. He came in close. Kili felt
his lips against his skin.
“So you’re on to me, are you?” Dwalin whispered hoarsely.
He snaked his tongue across Kili’s ear. Sickened, Kili thrashed harder.
“Did Fili tell you how much he likes it? He wants it. Ask him – he loves me. He
likes it when I make him bleed.”
With his second hand Dwalin closed his fingers on Kili’s groin and squeezed
until Kili’s face twisted in pain.
“You might, too.”
Agony and nausea spread in Kili’s belly. He struggled for air through his
closed throat. Through the stars that started winking in the corners of his
vision, he saw the hilt of a dagger on Dwalin’s belt. Instinctively he snatched
it and sliced the blade across Dwalin’s chest.
Dwalin howled in pain and let Kili go. Everything was a blur then. Kili slammed
to the floor and scrambled away, coughing. Then he felt a heavy boot in his
side and a sudden burst of blinding pain as something cracked in his chest. He
heard yelling.
“What is this!?”
Thorin’s voice cut through the din.
Suddenly Kili felt hands upon him. He looked up, still gasping.
It was Fili.
Kili collapsed against his brother. He felt Fili’s arms close around him. The
familiar touch of Fili’s warm cheek upon his forehead.
“Fili…” Kili moaned. “Oh, Fili…”
“It’s okay.” Fili held his brother close. “You’re okay.”
“What happened!?” Thorin was furious. “Dwalin!”
“The bastard stabbed me!” Dwalin spat. “He tried to kill me!”
“That bastard is my nephew!”
Kili looked up, still wheezing. Thorin had his blade to Dwalin’s throat. Dwalin
was bigger, but it was clear who had the upper hand.
“Uncle, don’t.” Fili’s voice was urgent but steady. “Please.”
“You stay out of this!” Thorin dug the blade a little into Dwalin’s neck. “Tell
me what happened. Do not lie to me.”
“Kili attacked me. I was defending myself!”
“Against a dwarfling!?”
“What was I supposed to do?”
“Kili!” Thorin didn’t take his eyes off Dwalin as he yelled at his nephew.
“What happened?”
“It’s true,” Kili coughed. “I attacked him.”
“Why!?”
“Because he r...”
Kili stopped as he caught Fili’s look. Then he had the icy realization that no
matter what he said now, Fili would suffer for it. The only thing he could do
was make the punishment less severe.
“Fili…” Tears welled up in his eyes.
“Don’t,” Fili mouthed silently.
Kili searched his brother’s face, desperate for guidance, something to say. But
Fili’s eyes were dead. The look there said, Leave it. It is not your place.
No, Kili thought in silent horror. What did he do to you?
He answered Thorin’s question with the first thing that came to mind.
“Because I don’t want what you offered me.”
Thorin turned to him in shock. He abruptly let Dwalin go. Dwalin staggered
back, clutching at his wound. The gash was long, but more in Dwalin’s shoulder
than his chest. And it wasn’t deep. Dwalin would be fine. Kili cursed his bad
luck.
“He’s mad,” Dwalin growled.
“Kili, why?” Thorin’s voice was heavy with the betrayal. “How could you?”
“I’m sorry,” Kili whispered. He let his head fall against Fili’s chest. He
never wanted to let him go. Then he felt two pairs of strong hands pry from his
brother’s arms. “Fili, no!”
He screamed incoherently as two warriors hauled him away. Fili still watched
him from his place on the floor, face emotionless. The door to the kitchen
slammed closed and Fili disappeared from view. Kili screamed as Dori and Gloin
hauled him towards the cellar door. Dori threw the door open and they shoved
him inside. “Sorry, lad,” he thought he heard Gloin say. Then they locked him
there in the dark, and for all his pounding and desperate bellowing, they would
not let him out.
Eventually his body reminded him of its existence. His voice felt like someone
had shredded his throat with gravel. In exhaustion, he collapsed to the floor
and didn’t stop himself as he began to weep. Each sob hitched painfully against
his broken rib. That just made him cry out louder.
He wept now not for himself, but for Fili. His only brother, the one he looked
up to, broken. Mated to a monster.
If only Kili hadn’t left them alone that first night. If only Kili hadn’t
teased him later. If only Kili hadn’t pried so deeply into everything, asked
about the sex, asked if it felt good.
He screamed then. It was a long and agonized howl that seemed to last for
minutes as he emptied his lungs in despair. The cries of his body that came
with it were nothing compared to the pain that he felt for Fili.
***** Chapter 15 *****
Chapter Notes
     Please be advised. This chapter contains explicit, graphic violence
     and domestic abuse that some may find triggering.
Thorin paced, seething.
Dwalin and Fili knelt on the kitchen floor, before him as his subjects. Neither
met his eye. Both awaited his judgment.
“What am I to do with you?” Thorin finally said. His words were searing.
“My king,” Dwalin said quickly. “I already told you the truth. Kili attacked
me, and I was only def – ”
“Stop.” Thorin cut him off. “Kili will be punished in accordance with his
crime. But you two,” – Thorin glared dangerously from one to the other – “You
have caused me nothing but trouble since the day you two became mates.”
“But, my king –”
“Let me finish!” Thorin bellowed. Dwalin’s mouth clamped shut. “I warned you to
keep your affections out of my sight. You have done everything but fuck in
front of my eyes!”
Fili reddened at that. Dwalin’s eyes glittered, but he stayed quiet.
“You got yourselves and the company captured by elves, then thrown in a dungeon
to rot for a month! We have lost everything – our weapons, our gear, our
dignity! And Kili!” He thrust a thick finger furiously towards the cellar door.
“Now you’ve injured him, as well!”
“I was protecting myself!” Dwalin spat again. Thorin smacked him hard in the
face. It was suddenly all either could do to keep from lunging at each other’s
throats.
“Wait.” Fili held up his hands when Thorin spun towards him. “Please let me
explain.”
For all the tension that weighed heavily in the air, Fili was remarkably calm.
Thorin folded his arms. Then he waited.
“Forgive us, uncle. The feelings we have are very strong. It is hard to keep
our... passions from showing.”
“He’s right.” Dwalin nodded vigorously. “We are in love! How can we hide that?”
“With discipline, Dwalin!” Thorin yelled, still watching Fili.
“We do have discipline,” Fili said softly. “If you knew how much we keep
between us, you would understand.”
Fili’s eyes shifted to Dwalin’s on their way back to the floor. It was so quick
that Thorin might have missed it if not for the understanding that dawned so
obviously on Dwalin’s face. He heard Thranduil’s words in his mind. When Fili
looked back up at him, Thorin spoke before Fili could open his mouth.
“Since Rivendell,” he said slowly, “you two have done nothing but hinder this
quest. And now you sow seeds of discontent without my house.”
A dark and menacing shadow passed through Dwalin’s eyes. Fili remained still.
Thorin hadn’t trusted Thranduil’s words, but now the silence of his two
subjects all but confirmed it. He was not certain, not absolutely, but his
suspicions were much stronger. He wanted to know – he had to know. But this was
not the place to reveal his knowledge of their treachery.
He settled for another question.
“Fili,” Thorin demanded. As he addressed his nephew, he fixed his eyes
dangerously on his enemy. Dwalin glared straight back. “Tell me this. Of all
your options, why did you choose this one?”
Fili was silent.
“Well?”
“The heat,” Fili whispered at last. “The choice was made for me. Dwalin was the
only dwarf around.”
”The heat,” Thorin repeated flatly.
Not even a choice, but instinct. Like dogs.
“You are both to be confined to your chambers until I have figured out what to
do with you. If I had a prison, I would confine you in solitude until you both
go mad.”
With Kili in the cellar, he had no place to put them but together. It wasn’t
ideal, but it would have to do for now. All the more incentive to get their
kingdom back. Thorin broke his lock on Dwalin’s gaze.
“Dori! Gloin!”
The kitchen door opened and the two strong warriors joined them in the room.
“Take them to their room and lock the door,” he commanded. “Bring me the key.”
The two gave him grim nods and took up their duties.
Thorin watched as Dori closed a hand around Fili’s arm. Gloin made to haul
Dwalin up. Fili rose without defiance, but Dwalin gave a sudden loud bellow and
turned on his captors. He smashed a fist into Dori’s gut. The older dwarf
doubled over and Dwalin kicked him in the face. Thorin heard a loud crunch and
saw the spurt of blood. Dwalin spun before Thorin could move and thrust a half
fist deep into Gloin’s beard, striking the throat. Gloin went down with a
hideous choking sound. Dwalin wheeled on Thorin and for a tiny second, Thorin
saw his death.
Then suddenly, a massive keg that had been tucked in a corner came crashing
down on Dwalin’s head. The barrel burst. Beer gushed everywhere, drenching
Dwalin and the others and Thorin’s boots. Dwalin went still. Then he collapsed.
Behind him stood Fili, face like stone.
Dori scrambled to his feet, cursing. Oin and Nori burst into the kitchen and
ran to their kin, and the entire company followed them in. Suddenly the place
was full of yelling, angry dwarves and everything was in chaos.
“STOP!” All went still at Thorin’s command. He felt the power of the crown
flooding into his veins. “Oin, help them!” He pointed first to Gloin, then to
Dori. “Bofur, Nori. Take Fili to his room. If he struggles, bind him. Dwalin,
too. Lock them in and bring me the key. Balin, you stay. Everyone else, out!”
Thorin turned his back and the dwarves scrambled to do as ordered. He waited
for the commotion to die down. Then silence fell. When at last he heard a soft
sound behind him, Thorin turned.
Balin stood in the center of the room, hands folded behind his back, waiting.
Thorin crossed to the intact keg of beer and gave it a jostle. When he found it
full, he filled a huge flagon with it and downed it. He poured himself a second
one and chugged it, too. At some point he thought he saw Bofur enter, leave the
key on the table, and depart. But he was too caught up in the drink to be sure.
He was on his third when he felt the ancient hand on his forearm. He lowered
the tankard, caught Balin’s expression, and set the beer down.
“What am I doing, old friend?” The steadiness of the hand he wiped across his
mouth belied the shakiness he felt.
“You are being a king.”
Thorin winced. He refilled his beer. He grabbed a second flagon, filled it too,
and handed it to Balin. Then he pulled up a big chair in front of the cold,
lifeless hearth. He wished there was a fire.
“I’m being a very bad king.”
Balin hauled over a second chair and climbed up into it. There his sipped his
beer in silence. When Thorin didn’t speak, he said quietly, “You are not a bad
king, Thorin.”
Thorin disagreed, but he said nothing.
“Why did this happen?” he asked. “I don’t understand.”
“Why did Kili attack Dwalin?” Balin clarified.
Thorin gave a quick nod. That, and other things.
“What did he tell you this morning?”
“That he didn’t want what I had offered him.” Thorin let out a sardonic scoff.
“That’s what he said.”
“What did you offer him?”
Of course Balin would have asked that. He told his old friend the truth. “I
promised to make him my heir if he’d take me as a mate when the time comes. And
not an hour later, he attacks another dwarf. Dwalin said he tried to kill him.”
“And Kili confirmed that?”
Thorin drained his tankard once more. When he spoke, his words were bitter. “I
caught them in the fight. Dwalin had the upper hand, but the gash was still in
his chest. Kili had the knife. And he did confirm it – Kili said that he had
attacked.” He shook his head. “Nothing was said about the intent to murder.”
Balin sighed heavily. “Intent or no, Kili might have killed Dwalin.”
“I doubt that,” Thorin said darkly. He thought of Gloin gasping for breath on
the floor. Dori’s shattered nose. His own sinuses throbbed with the memory of
where Thranduil had kicked him. “What am I going to do?”
“You will do what must be done according to our laws. Be grateful that Kili is
not an adult.”
Thorin knew what that meant. He cursed and hurled his empty tankard into the
blackened fireplace. It bounced against the stones and clattered to the floor
of the hearth and went still.
“If you ask it of me,” Balin said, “I will do what is needed.”
“No,” Thorin said quickly. “I may be his uncle, but I am still his king. If I
am to sentence him, I will carry out the punishment.” He wearily rubbed a hand
across his brow. “And we will wait until Erebor. If we do this, we do it
right.”
“Of course,” Balin agreed.
Then they were silent.
“Kili will never be able to rule after this,” Thorin said at last. “No dwarf
would have a criminal for a king.”
“Kili never wanted your crown.”
Thorin gave a sigh. Truth again.
“If I may ask,” Balin said slowly, “Why change your mind about your heir?”
At his words, the fury and the hurt suddenly bubbled up within Thorin’s chest.
The beer seemed to deepen the pain.
“Because… well, look at Fili! Look at him. He’s…” Thorin trailed off.
Fili is a traitor and a liar and so cowed by his love for Dwalin that he’d let
himself be a pawn in a game of high treason. Fili is nothing of the dwarf I
could have loved.
“He’s weak. Kili was the next best choice.”
“Thorin…” Balin sounded sad. “There is much more at work here than the events
of this morning. You loved Fili once. You cherished him, even if he wasn’t your
Cherished One. But you left that choice to him. And now you would disinherit
him for choosing poorly?”
“The heat,” Thorin corrected.
“Then you cannot in good conscience place the burden of circumstance upon him.
It is not his fault.” Balin spat the last three words emphatically.
Thorin sighed, knowing there was a reason that he always spoke to Balin. He
shook his head.
“Then where do I place that burden?”
“Sometimes mistakes are made where no blame is to be laid,” Balin said.
Thorin thought again of Thranduil’s words.
“Or you just don’t know how to lay it yet.”
“You should speak with Fili. You have not even acknowledged his presence since
Rivendell. How painful do you think that must be for him? He has always wanted
your love and your approval. That doesn’t change after a dwarf is mated.”
“I can’t speak with him, Balin.”
“Why not? What is there to lose?”
Thorin was silent for a long moment.
“Pride,” he finally admitted. There was more, too. There was his crown. His
people, their wealth and their ruler. His life. His heart. “Just pride.”
“Your pride will be your downfall, my friend.”
The words were Gandalf's, but they sounded right now that Balin had said them.
Balin was usually right.
“Leave me,” Thorin muttered.
“As you wish.”
Balin stood, left his half-consumed beer upon his seat, and made his way to the
door. At the threshold, he turned back and met Thorin’s gaze.
“Take heart, my king. You raised those lads well.”
Then he was gone.
Thorin drained the last of Balin’s beer. He stood then. As he did so the
kitchen gave a lurch and he groaned, drunk. He wasn’t much of a drinker. Four
tankards on an empty stomach had done him in. Undwarvish even in that, he
thought sourly.
His feet fumbled a little as he approached the kitchen door, but he wasn’t so
drunk as to lose his footing. The stairs were more of a challenge, but he got
to the top just fine.
Something made him pause in front of Fili’s door. A deep sense of warning
resonated low inside him. He didn’t mean to listen, but through the haze of
drink, it was hard not to linger there in the hallway. From beyond the door, he
thought that he heard noises. Fili’s murmur. A hard sound of boots on wood.
Fili’s soft words, impossible to make out. Dwalin’s voice, then laughter.
So he’s awake, Thorin fumed. Probably plotting to bring him down. He should
have had them separated. He could change his mind now, he thought. Put Kili
somewhere else and get the conspirators away from one another.
But Thorin Oakenshield was drunk. And drunks gave rash, foolish orders.
He would not make more of a fool of himself than he had done already.
He kept walking.
He came to his room, slammed the door shut, and clambered up into the stupidly
big bed and crashed. He let out a noise that sounded more like a growl than a
sigh. And then he went back to sleep until the drink wore off.
* * * * *
After the act Dwalin had rolled off him and passed out. He still lay there
asleep on the floor. Peaceful slumber.
They never did it in beds.
Fili hadn’t risen after his mate had finished him. Moving hurt too much.
Over the course of his punishment, the sun had traversed the sky and now was
settling into the horizon. If he could have gotten up, he would have seen
Erebor, glowing red in the evening sunset high above the wooden gables of
Laketown. But from his place on the floor, all he could see was the bloodshot
sky.
He tested himself. A little intake of breath. It felt like someone was stabbing
him in the chest.
Dwalin had never broken bones before.
“You’re a good liar,” Dwalin had told him during the beating. “You ever lie to
me like that, I’ll kill you.”
He’d smashed Fili against the dressing table, shattering the mirror. He had
then taken a shard of glass haphazardly to Fili’s body, slicing him open where
he tried to defend himself. When Fili was bloody Dwalin had flipped him over
and shredded his back with a heavy dwarven belt. Then he raped him face-to-face
on the splintered wooden floor. He’d done it without oil or even blood to ease
the entry. It had been impossible to keep silent through that pain. When Fili
had cried out, Dwalin had strangled him to shut him up.
He had nearly killed him with that.
After, Fili had not been able to move. It hurt too much to move.
Lying there on the floor, Fili tested his voice. The air was caustic in his
throat and a hoarse gurgle came out when he tried to form a word. Gone, he
thought. He has taken everything from me.
He heard Dwalin stir.
Leave me alone, he thought. Please, just leave me alone.
“M’love…”
Fili felt a rush of Dwalin’s emotions inside him. Dwalin was sorry. He’d never
meant to hurt him so badly.
But Fili had made him so angry.
Dwalin came to him and wrapped him in his arms. Dwalin kissed him and whispered
his penitence. Dwalin meant it, too.
That only made Fili feel guilty for what he had brought on himself.
Dwalin swept Fili up into his arms like a child. He carried Fili to the bed and
gently laid him down. The sheets felt cool on his bloodied body. He lay still
and closed his eyes as Dwalin pulled off the rest of his clothing. Ruined,
those. The trousers. The remnants of the hooded shirt in tatters where the belt
and glass had bitten him.
When he was naked Dwalin cleaned him thoroughly and healed him as best as he
knew how. Crudely, like everything Dwalin did.
Then Dwalin lay down beside him. He didn’t touch Fili out of fear of hurting
him further.
He watched him, though. Watched him with those evil blue eyes buried in the
shadows of a heavy brow and a big black beard.
Fili opened his eyes and looked at his mate. A singular thought devoid of
emotion came to mind, and he thought, I will kill you.
Dwalin frowned a little. The whiskers at the corners of his mouth twitched.
Then he said, “No, you won’t.”
***** Chapter 16 *****
Fili awoke as a prisoner in his broken body. He could open his eyes, but
barely, and thought maybe they were swollen. Strange. He didn’t remember Dwalin
hitting him in the face.
He squinted through the narrow slits between his eyelids at the oaken beam in
the ceiling. Even trying to see in the dim light from the fireplace made his
head pulse in pain. He closed his eyes again. He focused on listening. The
crackle in the hearth. Sounds of wind in the shutters. Dwalin shuffling about
in the room. Scrubbing blood from the floorboards.
Fili felt little of his mate’s emotion as Dwalin worked. Work distracted him
too, it seemed. But occasionally Fili felt the pang of Dwalin’s guilt. So
Dwalin still has his remorse. It was a rare feeling for Dwalin, and it usually
faded quickly.
He heard the bang of a fist on the door, then felt Dwalin’s rush of fear.
“A moment!” Dwalin yelled.
A key jangled in the lock. Fili felt Dwalin cover him then in a thick feather
comforter. Hiding the damage. Then Dwalin rushed to the door as it opened.
“What do you want?” Dwalin asked gruffly. All bravado. In truth he was
terrified.
“Ye’re to be fed.” Bofur’s lilting accent.
Fili opened his mouth to cry for help but no sound came out.
“I’m not s’posed to talk to ye.”
“Fine, then go!”
Fili heard the creak of the door hinges but then the thud of wood hitting a
boot. Bofur must have blocked it.
“Is he a' right?”
“Fili’s fine,” Dwalin lied quickly. “Just melancholy. His brother tried to kill
me. You know that.”
“Aye,” Bofur said quietly. “Aye, I know.”
Fili wanted to scream, No, that’s not what happened! But all he could manage
was a weak, inaudible croak that was swallowed by the blankets.
“I thought you were goin’.”
“I am.”
Then the door slammed closed and the key turned in the lock. With Bofur’s
retreating footsteps, the last of Fili’s hope withered and died.
He heard Dwalin go across the room. Then he heard him eating. Fili knew he was
on Dwalin’s mind. Dwalin addressed him between mouthfuls. “I know you’re
awake,” Dwalin said as he chewed. “You brought this on yourself, you know. I
wouldn’t have had to beat you if you hadn’t hurt me with the barrel.”
You were going to kill him, Fili thought.
“You’re thinking of Thorin, aren’t you?” Dwalin asked. There was hatred for
Thorin there, but that was soon superseded by Dwalin’s curiosity. He got up
from wherever he was across the room and came towards Fili. “How do you do
that?”
Fili could sense his closeness. The lingering scent of blood and sex in his
presence.
“How am I hearing you in my head?”
I don’t want to know.
“You don’t know, do you?”
And neither do you.
“Ohh…”
Dwalin was growing excited. Fascinated, almost. Like a cruel dwarfling who’s
found a colorful moth and pulls its wings off just to see how it twitches.
Being his specimen was almost worse than being his slave.
“I can hear you,” Dwalin said in awe. “But not in words. It’s not a language…
it's music. You think in song!” Suddenly Fili felt the hands upon his face. The
possessive kiss upon his brow and his slack features. Dwalin sounded and felt
as if he had seen Fili for the first time. “Your mind…You sing everything! Ohh,
what a treasure!”
Dwalin caressed Fili face and body. He was suddenly aware, so very much aware
of how close he had come to killing the mate that he loved. The mate that only
now had he discovered to be so precious.
“I am sorry that I had to hurt you,” he whispered. “My sweet songbird. I’ll
take care of you if you’ll let me. I’ll take care of you forever.”
Fili had nothing to say to that. No thoughts, no emotions.
No songs, either.
As Dwalin lay beside him and turned him onto his side and pressed up against
his nakedness, a thought devoid of feeling entered his mind.
Fili realized then that he was going to die.
It wouldn’t be the death of his body. That might be broken now, but it would
heal in time. In his madness or his lust, Dwalin would break it anew. It would
mend again and Dwalin would break it, and it would become more scarred and less
functional with each passing round until Fili was frail, bedridden. Much like
now. He would never sit the throne, nor lead a host in battle. But that was all
right, because among their people, ruling was mostly war. And Dwalin was a good
warrior.
His body, he could surrender. What did hurt was to lose was his half of their
shared soul. Not like that mattered much, either. Shriveled as it was and so
blackened by Dwalin’s presence, Fili would never be free of the taint. It still
hurt though, the idea of losing himself. But as Dwalin took him there, gently
in the bed, he thought then that perhaps death might not be so bad.
Fili hadn’t even realized that he thought in song. He had not known just how
central it was to his nature until Dwalin had found it. But now, it belonged to
his mate. And like all things, it had only been a brief moment in time before
Dwalin had begun to devour it. Now, Dwalin gorged himself upon the music and
would do so until it was gone. Then he’d look for more, but Fili would have
nothing left to give.
Reduced to a shell. A means to a throne, a thing to fuck. Nothing more.
He sensed that Dwalin wanted it.
And then he wanted it too.
He wouldn’t hurt anymore. No more pain. No more broken hearts.
Fili let Dwalin in behind the wall. There, he submitted. Dwalin took what was
his and consumed it. Quick and painless. And when Dwalin had finished, all that
was left were bones.
***** Chapter 17 *****
The creak of the cellar door was accompanied by the burst of torchlight into
the darkness. Kili blocked the light with his hand and he squinted until his
eyes adjusted. Then he saw Thorin standing there in the doorway.
“Get up and come with me.”
“What?” Kili asked, perplexed. His throat felt ragged when he spoke. “I thought
I was your prisoner.”
“You are,” his uncle said. “But you are still a member of this company. And
now, I need your eyes.”
Thorin stood back and gestured for Kili to come out. Kili got to his feet,
clutched at the throbbing in his chest, and followed his uncle into the
kitchen. He looked about and found the place exactly as it had been when he’d
last been here. Down in the cellar, he had heard muffled versions of all that
had happened up here earlier: the interrogation, the fight, Thorin’s meeting
with Balin. But to look at the room now, clean and tidy, he might have never
known that a little war had been waged here. He must have been down in the
cellar longer than he’d thought.
“What’s going on?” Kili asked hesitantly.
“You’re going with Bilbo,” Thorin said. “Today is Durin’s Day. I need your
scout’s eyes to find that keyhole.”
“What about Fili?”
“Don’t talk to me about him right now.”
The callousness in Thorin’s voice stung Kili more than anything. Thorin knew
nothing, but he judged with the certainty of a king. Kili wanted so badly to
blurt out the truth, to make his uncle see, but it wasn’t his place. Fili had
told him no. He’d begged him through those hollow eyes and Kili couldn’t betray
him.
It hurt, loyalty.
“Your brother will be confined to his room until we retake Erebor. Then I will
deal with you both.”
“Why are you so angry?”
Suddenly Thorin spun and grabbed Kili by the collar. He brought his face in
close and only barely managed to keep a lid on his rage. “You feel the need to
ask that? Damn you, lad! Your ignorance and your foolishness shame me!”
Kili opened his mouth to snap back at the insult, but stopped himself. The
words were too true. He was foolish, and he was ignorant, and so unaware of the
real world around him. He was still young, he knew, but that was no excuse. Not
anymore. Not after Fili.
He clamped his mouth shut and felt the tears stinging in his eyes.
Thorin let him go. When he spoke again his voice had softened. “You’ll go fast
with just two, but try to make haste just the same. You’re still miles from the
mountain, and it must be tonight. You’ll want this.” Thorin pulled two pieces
of folded paper from his jacket pocket and handed them to his nephew. Kili
opened them up. One was a handdrawn map that showed the discreet way out of
Laketown and the path towards the mountain. The other was Thrain’s map, with
the hand that marked the door. “Bring it back, please.”
“Of course,” Kili whispered, knowing which one Thorin meant. He carefully
tucked the maps into a safe place beneath his hooded shirt. Then he followed
his uncle into the study.
There amidst the oversized chairs, bookshelves, and piles of papers were Balin
and Bilbo. The hobbit rocked from unshod foot to foot, dressed in gear for
hiking. Balin was busy reading a document by the fire and he didn’t look up
when they entered. Kili glanced at the desk, covered in scrolls and maps. Most
of the documents bore a mix of the runic languages of their people, both old
and new. Some bore the scrawling scripts of men. Even a few were in the flowing
elvish hand. Thorin had spared nothing in his search for information.
Kili looked unhappily at all of the weight that came with ruling. He really
didn’t want it.
Thorin took a coat from a peg on the wall, a rucksack with water and a day’s
rations from beside the desk, and a scabbard with a short sword from a rack
near the window. He handed them all to Kili. Coarse things, made by men, but
they would do for now.
“You come back when you’ve found the keyhole,” Thorin said. “I need you in
this, but I’m taking a great risk after what happened yesterday. You know that
you have committed a crime, and that cannot go unpunished.”
Kili swallowed. He knew the price for attempted murder. He was still a
juvenile, so it wouldn’t be his head. But a hundred lashes might still kill a
dwarf, even if it wasn’t technically the death sentence. It scared him. He
wanted to say something then, to tell his uncle why he had committed his crime,
but he didn’t know what to say. And anyways, when he spoke, he usually said
something rash. So he kept his silence, gave his king a sullen nod, and
followed Bilbo out of the study.
Before they left the house Kili slipped on the scabbard and hid it beneath the
coat. Then he threw on the pack. He left his hood down for now, having learned
the hard way that it made him look more and not less suspicious.
As they reached the door, Bilbo stopped him. The hobbit’s fingers were in his
waistcoat pocket. “I’ll be with you, but you won’t see me. Go on.”
Kili frowned, but did as he was told and slipped out into the Laketown square.
It was still dark, but some of the big people had already woken for the day and
were up, going about their business. As if simply doing the same, Kili walked
among them with intention and eyes straight forward. He didn’t look like a
prince. Today he didn’t feel like one, either. He didn’t want their attention.
The ruse worked. As a dwarf, he got some curious eyes, but no one seemed to
look twice.
They made their way out of Laketown as discreetly as possible – or rather, Kili
did. True to his word, Bilbo was nowhere to be seen. Kili couldn’t hear the
hobbit either, so he went on as if alone. Once he was out of the village, he
set a brisk pace up towards the lonesome peak.
The going that day wasn’t easy. It was a mountain he was climbing, and he had
to breathe deeply. His chest throbbed with each breath of exertion and the ache
still lingered in his throat, but if there was one thing Kili had in spades, it
was endurance of physical pain.
He wasn’t so good at enduring the rest. Though Dwalin had left bruises, the
touch that had stuck most in his mind had been the tongue on his ear. The
memory made his stomach lurch inside him and for once, he was glad he hadn’t
eaten.
He kept moving up the mountain. As he did his mind wandered, and kept circling
back to the truth he didn’t want to face.
Fili.
Finally he admitted it to himself.
Fili was raped, he thought.
Ugly word, rape.
He remembered the first time he’d heard it, years ago now. He’d overheard it
spoken by three men in a tavern. Words about raping the girls in the brothel
and getting away with not paying. When the men had laughed, then spent the coin
meant for the women on their ales, Kili could no longer stand it. He had
marched up their table and without a word, flipped the heavy thing over. When
the men had jumped up in shock he’d taken one down with his fists. The entire
bar had then erupted in a brawl. Fili had had to drag Kili out by force to keep
him from getting killed.
His brother had never understood what had triggered Kili’s rage that day. Kili
had never told him, either. They didn’t hold secrets from each other, but this
was one that Kili had needed to keep.
It all went back to the hard, early years of Kili’s childhood. Kili had been
just a little dwarfling, and even in those days, he’d always been spying. He
was good at it too, and rarely got caught. Sometimes he would hear secrets that
were not meant for children’s ears. Occasionally he heard Mother crying to her
brother behind closed doors. With an older sibling of his own, Kili had long
thought that Uncle Thorin was just being mean in making his sister cry. But as
he’d gotten older, the reality of their hardship had become much more apparent.
Over time he’d eventually learned just what Mother had done for their family.
They had lived among men in those days. Growing up around them had made Kili
resent their kind, and it all went back to his mother. As a woman, the big folk
didn’t trust Dis at the forge, too caught up in the thought of what was between
her legs than the beauty of her craft. They underestimated her capabilities
solely because she was a woman.
It figured, Kili thought. Of course, a race named for only one of its sexes
would deny equality to the other. Dwarves were different. Dwarrowdams were
rare, but they were equals, and were dwarves first and above all. Dis was just
like any dwarf woman, but she was also Thorin’s sibling and a descendant of the
line of Durin. Strong and surly and powerful with her hands, she could fight or
forge as well as any Dwarf-man, and none of their people underestimated her.
But living amongst the big folk had stripped her of her rightful status. She
had been denied opportunity by both her race and sex, and eventually she’d
realized the ugly truth. She was a dwarf and a woman, something exotic to the
big men. The only service they would let her sell was her body. She was a
dwarven princess too, a rare bearded beauty whose curvy, muscled frame would
fetch a very high price indeed.
More than once she had brought it up when they were in leaner times. Thorin had
always forbidden it. To sell herself was to bring dishonor to the house of
Durin, dishonor to the memory of her mate, and dishonor to herself.
Reluctantly, she’d agreed to be a keeper at home. And for a long time, they
tried to make ends meet without resorting to the worst.
But one winter was bad, very bad. Everyone had it hard that year, but
especially the dwarves. Thorin and Mother had grown thin to provide enough food
for the boys. They had been hanging by a thread, treading water. Though they
were frugal and might have weathered the winter on Thorin’s income alone, one
small setback would have sent them careening into poverty. Of course, that
happened. When the landlord raised the season’s rates, they could no longer
make the rent.
Only when threatened again with homelessness had Dis gone behind her brother’s
back. She came home that night with enough money for lodging. She’d brought
food, sweet carrots and potatoes and even a little meat. They ate well that
night and not even Thorin could deny that she’d done what had needed to be
done. After that, things got easier. With a little extra money, and later, a
double income, they managed to get up out of debt.
A decade passed with little incident. They stabilized. Then they grew wealthy.
Though Mother was never happy with the choices she’d had to make, she soldiered
on for the sake of her brother and sons. And for the most part, things were
fine. The boys grew up healthy, they grew up strong, and they grew up knowing
that they were loved.
But there was one memory that still haunted Kili. It reminded him of just how
hard those years had been for Dis. She had come home one early morning, long
after the boys were supposed to have been asleep. Fili was a good child. He’d
been in bed for hours. But Kili’s mischief was stronger at night, and he had
made it a game to spy on the adults when they would come home late from work.
The moment she had come back that night, Kili had known things were different.
She had bruises on her face and she’s hobbled to climb the stairs up to her
room. He had watched her go in and shut the door, and then he’d heard her
tears. Crying like he’d never heard anyone cry before. Overwhelmed by emotion,
he had pounded on the door, desperate for her. But when she’d answered it,
she’d knelt and pulled him into her arms. She’d smiled at him despite the
redness in her eyes. She’d kissed him and told him that she loved him, and that
everything would be okay.
It was years before she told him exactly what had happened. She hadn’t even
told Thorin. Only Kili knew because he had seen her right after. She told him
after the bar brawl, after he’d defended the honor of the women who worked the
brothels. She told him only once he had asked the meaning of the word rape.
“My sweet boy,” she’d called him, “what you saw that night was evil. Sometimes,
they take what they want by force. From one of the big men, it is very painful.
You feel like less of a person. But I have not had it as hard as others of our
kind.”
She proceeded to tell him how different men and dwarves really were. Men could
lie with many, but dwarves mated for life. The big folk had tastes as diverse
in sex as in anything, but dwarves took no pleasure from anyone but their mate.
The sex was strong between the peoples of Men, and they bonded in their own
way, but those bonds were organic like leaves, and like leaves they were prone
to rot. Dwarves were different. For dwarves, the mating bond was forged a
single time in iron. Once made, it could never be broken. It lived on as a
single shared soul until both the vessels were dead.
She told him not to worry about her, for all they could have was her body. They
were men, and she was a dwarf, and so they could never have her heart. Even if
she had never been mated to Kili’s father, dwarves only fell in love with their
own kind. The big men used her, and sometimes they injured her, but they could
never hurt her where it mattered most because they were not dwarves.
“But Kili, my baby,” she’d said as she kissed his hair, “you are a prince, and
you are beautiful. Some may try to take advantage of you. If your heart is
stolen and you are forced to mate against your will, the violation of it will
slowly destroy you here.” She placed her hand on his sternum over his heart.
“Every time you are touched, the bond grows stronger. It is wonderful,
wonderful when it is forged in love. But if it is forged in hate, you risk your
soul.”
Her words haunted him now.
“Fili was raped,” he said to himself. The sound of the words made it real.
Fili was raped by a dwarf.
Kili collapsed to the ground and began to weep. The emptiness in Fili’s eyes
stuck in his mind like a pin beneath a fingernail. A tiny thing, but brutally
painful.
He had trusted Dwalin because Dwalin was kin. A cousin, family. But he had been
naïve and so wrong. He, Kili, had been fool enough to leave them alone
together. It was he, Kili, who had been the last to see Fili whole.
He screamed in fury and repeatedly slammed his fist into the side of his head
to beat the stupid out of himself. At some point he buried his fingers in his
hair and pulled, then threw himself to the ground where he pounded his big
hands against the stone. And then he was sobbing. And then eventually, he
sobbed himself into silence.
In the high mountain pass, the last echo of his voice took a long time to die.
When it did, everything was quiet. Then he heard the bird as it let out its
evening tune. A beetle crawled across his fingers. He sniffled softly, spent.
“Kili?”
He startled and jumped to his feet at Bilbo’s voice.
Lost in his head, Kili had completely forgotten about the hobbit. Bilbo was
watching him from some distance away. He had the most horrified look on his
face that Kili had ever seen. The fact that Bilbo had watched him break down
was bad. The fact that he had heard the dark truth about Fili and Dwalin almost
sent Kili right back into hysterics.
“Oh, Bilbo…”
The hobbit came to him and placed a little hand tentatively upon his shoulder.
The touch was gentle, a comfort.
“I don’t know what to do.” Kili’s words tumbled out of him in a shudder. “I’ve
made a terrible mistake.”
“I…” Bilbo was quiet. Then, “I’m sorry.”
Kili pulled himself up off his knees and plopped back down on the stone. He
slumped miserably. He wiped the tears from his eyes and nose and gave a heavy
sniff. He shook his head and stared at the mountain. That stupid mountain,
turning pink in the sunset, not caring what happened to its people.
“I left my brother alone with a dwarf who…” Now that he knew Bilbo was here,
the word and all its weight stuck in his mouth and he couldn’t say it. “Dwalin
hurt Fili. He hurt him very, very badly.”
“I didn’t know.” Bilbo said. “I thought they were happy.”
Bilbo sat down beside him, concern furrowed deeply into his brow. He started to
speak, but stopped. Then he started again and stammered. He looked more
confused than anything. He had been fooled by Fili’s act just as much as the
rest of them. Now he seemed as shocked as anyone else might have been. Anyone
but dwarves, who knew the full meaning of rape. Dwarves would be out for blood.
“I think we all thought that, Bilbo.” Kili shook his head. He heard the bird
crack its nut on the rocks. “I don’t think anyone knew the truth.”
“Maybe…” Bilbo scratched his head and looked off into the distance. “Maybe… Oh,
I don’t know. Hobbits don’t do these things. It just… it doesn’t exist. We know
what it is, but it doesn’t happen with our kind. We don’t have ways of dealing
with it.”
Kili watched Bilbo wordlessly. He didn’t know what to do. What he really needed
was to get to Fili. He had to break through that barrier, that cheerful,
infatuated shell that Fili had worn for months to hide the damage he bore. But
he didn’t know how.
Bilbo shifted beside him. The hobbit was so very visible there beside him. It
occurred to him then that Bilbo had so much stealth that Kili had entirely
forgotten his presence until just a moment ago.
“How do you go unseen?”
“Wha – ” Bilbo raised his eyebrows. “I… well…”
“I need to see my brother,” Kili said quickly. “But Thorin’s got him locked up
and there might be a guard. How do you go unseen?”
The hobbit let out a frustrated noise, then screwed up his face into something
like a child’s scowl and dug in his pocket. When he pulled out his hand, there
was a golden ring in his palm. Kili stared at it. It was beautiful. He had a
hard time looking away. But when he reached for it, Bilbo closed his fingers
around it.
Bilbo slipped the ring around his finger and disappeared from sight.
Kili scrambled back with a cry. “Wha!”
“Kili!” Bilbo reappeared. “It’s okay! Really, it’s fine.” He slid the ring on
and off his finger, blinking in and out of existence.
When Bilbo disappeared again, Kili heard footsteps and looked around
frantically.
“Bilbo!” He cried, scrambling to his feet.
“Here,” Bilbo said as he slipped off the ring. He came into view with his back
towards the mountain.
“That’s it,” Kili said softly. It was exactly what he needed. He stood and came
to Bilbo and held out his hand, but Bilbo didn’t give him the ring. “Come on,
can I see it?”
“No, Kili.” Bilbo said. He slid the ring back into his pocket. “No, not right
now.”
“Bilbo!” Kili snapped. When Bilbo took a step back, Kili took the edge out of
his voice. “You don’t understand. I must get to Fili. Dwalin’s destroying him.
Please?”
Bilbo didn’t answer. It wasn’t a no, but it wasn’t a yes, either.
Mahal, would no one help?
Kili turned away and pressed a fist to his mouth, trying to stifle the feelings
that threatened to overtake him once more. He blinked furiously and his eyes
darted about as he tried to stem the tears.
But then he saw it. Just like that. The keyhole.
“Oh, Bilbo…”
Bilbo turned and looked where Kili was pointing. “Erebor,” he said. “Huh.”
Kili didn’t know how feel, so he simply said the first thing that came to his
lips. “We’re home.”
***** Chapter 18 *****
Dwalin had struggled, albeit weakly, when they had separated him from Fili.
They’d had to slip him sedatives in the food. Even then, the huge dwarf had
still been strong enough to be a danger. Thorin had helped the other three drag
him down the stairs and down to the cellar. When they’d locked Dwalin in the
darkness, Thorin had collapsed against the wall and wondered how it all had
gone wrong.
The kitchen was deafening, its silence interrupted only by the occasional
sounds of Dwalin’s distress from behind the cellar door. Thorin went back
upstairs. If he was to be in solitude, it would be in his room, as far from
Dwalin as possible.
As he passed Fili’s door, something stopped him. It was the same sense of
warning from deep in his gut, a sense that had started growing after Rivendell,
but had been waylaid when he’d been captured by the elves. Thranduil had
offended him, and the solitude of the cell had left him edgy, but now he was
here. He was here in Laketown outside Fili’s door, listening to the silence
from within. Now, without distractions, the warning came back stronger than he
had remembered it. Thorin stuck his hand into his pocket and dug out the key to
the room. He wondered what in Durin’s name he was doing, but he still stuck the
key in the lock. He turned it, then swung open the door to look.
Fili was asleep in the bed. Both bowls of drugged food stood empty on the
bedside table. From the heaviness of Fili’s slumber, he must have eaten too.
Thorin watched his nephew. Fili had buried himself in blankets, and all that
Thorin could see now was a tangle of yellow hair on the pillow. Even as an
adult, the lad still hadn’t acquired the habit of braiding back his hair before
he slept. It was remarkable that he could ever get the snarls out in the
morning. Thorin had the urge to go to him as his uncle, to go and lie down on
the bed as he had after a seven-year old Fili had lost his father. He wanted to
sing to him now as he had then, for Fili had always loved to hear Thorin sing.
But Thorin refrained. Fili was grown now. No longer a child, but a mated dwarf.
More of an adult now in many ways than Thorin. If anyone sang to Fili now, it
was Dwalin, and it was in intimacy, not tenderness.
The thought of Dwalin reminded him that the act of mating changed dwarves. That
held Thorin back. Fili was no longer the good child that he had raised. Though
it pained him now to know that Fili hadn’t chosen his mate, that his body had
made the choice, it didn’t change the fact that he was mated to Dwalin, and
Dwalin was likely plotting to take his throne. But then, Thorin didn’t know
that. He was suspicious, by Mahal he was. But he wasn’t certain. If he
condemned the two on a jealous hunch and then found out he’d been wrong, Thorin
Oakenshield would never forgive himself that.
He turned to leave. As he pulled the door closed, he gave one last glance at
his nephew, hoping for something. He didn’t really know what he wanted then. To
wake up and acknowledge him, to give him a smile, or even just the soft sound
of rolling over in sleep. But there was nothing.
Sadly, Thorin departed. He shut the door behind him and relocked it, then
slipped away into the quiet of his room.
* * * * *
Thorin was still up late by the fire when he heard the front door bang open.
That noise was followed by the crescendo of boots and bare feet on the stairs.
He jumped up and ran to his door and threw it open, then saw Kili and Bilbo
sprinting towards him down the hall.
“We found it,” Kili cried. He collapsed to his knees on the floorboards,
panting. “It’s there.”
Thorin’s heart leapt inside his chest. “Bilbo, did you see it? Can you get to
it?”
“It’s high up,” Bilbo gasped. “But I think I can climb to it.”
“Good,” Thorin said. “The company goes in the morning. You’ll show me where it
is, and I’ll give you the key. Then we’ll see just how valuable a burglar you
are.”
“Uncle?” Kili was still on the floor. The look on his face cut through Thorin’s
rush of excitement and he suddenly remembered what going home meant for Kili.
The lad really didn’t deserve what was to come.
“Kili. What am I going to do with you?” Thorin’s words were gentle, weary. He
went to his nephew and extended him a hand. When Kili took it, Thorin pulled
him to his feet. “You’ve done wrong, and I cannot let that pass. I have to
leave you here.”
Kili nodded sullenly and sniffed.
“I can’t put you back in the cellar,” Thorin said, more to himself than to
Kili. “I put Dwalin there. He’s dangerous.”
Kili’s eyes widened and he blurted, “Put me with Fili.”
“What?” Thorin bristled at first. His instinct was to flat-out deny it. He had
lost Fili’s love and now possibly his loyalty. He didn’t want to risk Kili,
too. But despite the pain that the thought of Fili brought him, he truly did
miss his nephew. His cheerfulness, his diligence, his quiet strength. But he,
Thorin Oakenshield, was never going to get through to Fili. It had to be his
brother. And Kili was a fighter, he reminded himself. He could defend himself
if the worst should happen. He sighed and said, “I’ll consider it.”
“Really!?” Kili gave a loud cry and he threw his arms around Thorin’s neck,
startling him. Thorin stiffened. When Kili didn’t let him go he gave a growl,
pried Kili’s arms from his neck, and pushed him back.
From Kili’s reaction he’d expected him to be grinning when they parted.
Instead, Kili was in tears.
“What ever is wrong?” Kili’s reaction triggered that sense of warning again,
stronger now than ever. Something was wrong, so wrong, and whatever it was,
Kili knew about it. Dread pooled in Thorin’s belly. “It’s Fili. Isn’t it?”
The look on Kili’s face confirmed it. Thorin started towards Fili’s door but
Kili gave out a sudden, desperate howl. He threw himself between Thorin and his
brother.
“NO, Thorin!”
“What – ”
“Let me do this! Please.” Kili looked back behind him at the door. Towards his
brother, imprisoned in there. When he turned back to Thorin, there was a
certain grittiness there in his eyes. It wasn’t the cocky, false bravery of
youth. This was the true strength of Durin’s Line, finally there in his
sister’s youngest. “I owe it to him,” Kili said.
Thorin was silent. He looked from Kili to Bilbo. The sad little hobbit only
shrugged helplessly. Thorin turned back at Kili. “This will be your penitence,”
he said, voice low. “Find out the truth, whatever it is. You make this right,
and you’ve earned your freedom.”
“Thank you,” Kili whispered. He pressed his forehead to Thorin’s. “Thank you,
uncle.”
***** Chapter 19 *****
When Kili stepped into the bedroom he lingered by the door for a long time. He
waited until he heard the key turn in the lock, and then until the footsteps
outside were gone.
Everything was so quiet in this room. The fire had died in the hearth. The wind
outside had settled to little more than a sad whistle coming through the
shutters. Fili didn’t move in the bed. All Kili could see was his hair.
He started towards the bed. Time did something strange as he moved. It seemed
to take an age for him to cross the bedroom floor, but suddenly he was there,
at the bedside above his brother.
“Fili?” He called softly.
No response.
He reached out a hand and very gently touched his brother’s hair. Fili was warm
beneath the tangles. As delicately as he could, Kili hooked a finger in the
dirty yellow lock that fell over Fili’s face. He combed it back and gasped at
what he saw.
His brother’s beautiful eyes had been swollen shut. Tiny red dots speckled the
dark, puffy circles beneath them. More proof of strangulation was just below
his jaw in the form of deep purple bruises in the shape of dwarven hands.
Kili’s own injury hurt at the sight. But he knew Fili had had it worse. He
checked Fili’s pulse. Still alive. Relief washed over him and he sank down to
the bed. He waited there, steadying himself, preparing himself for the worst
when he pulled back the blankets. When he did he had to stifle his cry at the
sight of what Dwalin had done.
Fili’s body was covered in swollen bruises and deep, poorly bound wounds.
Dwalin had spared nothing in hurting him. He’d then tried to put Fili back
together, but Dwalin was no healer. He hadn’t known what he was doing. Fili was
pale from the loss of blood, and there was more of him that was blotched and
bruised and wounded than there was skin in its natural color. He breathed, but
barely, and when Kili touched a hand to his cheek, he didn’t move.
“Oh, Fi…”
Kili’s hands trembled as he began to assess the bandages on his brother’s body.
He wasn’t much of a healer either, but he was far better than Dwalin at this.
He got up and began searching the room for supplies, starting with the
mirrorless dressing table.
There wasn’t much to find there. A quill, ink. No paper. Ribbons. A pot of
salve. He opened up the pot to find it half empty. The salve smelled new, and
he had the horrible thought of just how much of it Fili had had to use in
recent months. He pushed that out of his mind.
He returned to the bed and shredded a sheet into bandages. Then he set to work
on healing his brother. It would not be perfect, but it’d be better than it was
now. It was a strange task, this. Kili had a strong stomach for violence, and
if he didn’t think of this as his brother, most of the damage was easy enough
to bear. But every now and then, a particularly gruesome wound would hit him
like a punch to the gut. They were the ones that he knew were bad, possibly
permanent. The deep gashes in Fili’s forearms and palms would hinder his grip
on swords. The one on the back of his thigh and knee might cripple him. And
those were just the outside wounds. Kili didn’t want to think about the wounds
inside Fili’s body. Those, he could do nothing for but hope. That was a hard
thing to feel right now. So he suppressed his despair by doing his job
diligently, and eventually, eventually, he finished.
By now, Fili was half white with cloth. He lay just as still as before. Kili
curled up next to him on the bed. One of Fili’s hands – his quill hand, the
left – wasn’t too badly hurt. Kili took up that hand in his own.
The night wore on, and Kili stayed by his brother. He heard the morning song of
a bird outside the shuttered window and knew that dawn was coming. He yawned,
exhausted. He wanted to stay awake, but he was so tired, and he hadn’t eaten.
He wanted to stay with Fili, but he needed his own strength. Fili needed it
too. So Kili closed his eyes and let himself drift off, fingers intertwined
with his brother’s.
* * * * *
Fili’s eyes stayed closed all through the day. Kili didn’t know if he was awake
or asleep. But he stayed by his side as time passed, rising only once in the
morning to receive sustenance at the door.
With the company up on the mountain, it was the big people who brought them
their food. A weak gruel, water, nothing special. Kili didn’t care. Taste was
not important now.
When the door was closed and locked, Kili returned to his brother. He picked up
a piece of cloth and soaked it in water and touched it to Fili’s lips. His
brother stayed still. Kili kept up the work with the water for several minutes.
He stopped only when he’d made a small but noticeable dent in the fullness of
the waterskin.
Kili frowned in concern. Fili was thinning fast and needed the food, but Kili
could barely get him water. He set the bowls of gruel aside and stayed by his
brother, giving him water as needed until the day had passed.
* * * * *
Kili finally gave in to his own hunger on the morning of the third day. After,
he’d felt weak for doing it and had emptied his stomach of it.
Fili had gone for days without food. If Fili could be so strong, so too then,
could Kili.
* * * * *
That evening, Kili kept his dinner down.
It made no sense for both of them to be starving. He was the big brother now,
taking care of Fili. He had to be strong for them both. Fili always had been.
* * * * *
The third day.
He’d needed to rewrap Fili’s wounds and so he had asked for supplies. The big
folks had not been generous, but they’d given him real bandages. More salve, a
needle and thread.
Just like them, to care little for the dwarves. But at least they hadn’t asked
questions.
He had gone to work replacing his brother’s wrappings. When Kili had unbound
the wounds and taken a look, he’d breathed a sigh of relief. Fili was a fast
healer. Most of his wounds were mending well and Kili could let them take their
course. Except the one on the back of Fili’s thigh. When he’d inspected it more
closely, Kili had realized that if he let it close without repairing the
severed tendons, Fili might never walk again.
“I’m sorry, Fi,” he whispered. For once his eyes were dry.
He scrubbed his big dwarf hands at the wash table until they were clean. Then
he gently turned his brother over and carefully reopened the wound. He dug his
fingers inside until he found the ends of the tendons. Then he sewed them back
together, cleaned and stitched up the wound, and rebandaged it. As he lay down
beside his brother, he hoped that wherever Fili was, he could not feel his
body.
* * * * *
Sometime in the night Kili heard rain. Everything was quiet except that sound.
Kili always thought that rainfall sounded oddly sad. For how could heartless
weather have emotion?
He propped himself up on his elbows in the bed. He listened to the rain and
watched his brother sleep. Fili's face had grown thin but the swelling in his
eyes was gone. If Kili hadn’t known the truth he’d have just thought that Fili
was sleeping. He looked like he had when they were dwarflings during the lean
years. Gaunt, but still a solid sleeper.
Even in those years, Kili had been an insomniac. He’d also been a troublesome
bedmate, and his mischief grew stronger at night. Sometimes as a lad he would
lick his finger and stick it into his sleeping brother’s ear. Another trick was
to steal all of the blankets, then the sheets, then the pillows, and then to
slowly inch Fili off of the bed until he fell to the floor and awoke with a
startled cry.
But now, he just let his brother rest.
* * * * *
The rain had finally stopped.
In the cities of men, rainfall did a funny thing. It tended to churn up the
earth and turn the streets into cesspools of mud and shit that reeked of the
big folk and all of their unpleasantries. But here, in Laketown, where the
streets were docks and had gaps between the boards, the rain had washed away
the filth and left the air smelling sweet and clean.
After the rain had ended, the first sound Kili heard was the distant call of a
bird. A long, low looo followed by a soft, ascending ra-looo. He cocked his
head and listened. The bird sang again. The whistle reminded him of the start
of something that Mother used to sing. She had a beautiful tenor voice. He
missed hearing it. If they managed to retake Erebor and they saw Dis once more,
he would have to ask her to sing.
“Looo ra loo ra lee.”
Kili’s voice was deep, close to Thorin’s now in timbre and in range. But the
feel of the song resonating in his chest brought him back to the calm, quiet
moments of his childhood. He didn’t remember the words anymore, but the tune
was fixed in his memory.
He opened the window and breathed in the fresh air from outside. He hummed
Mother’s song as he watched the rainclouds slowly drift away. Across the lake,
the mountain came into view. Somewhere in the distance towards his ancestral
home, the bird sang back.
* * * * *
Dawn.
Kili had lost track of the days.
He stretched on the bed that he shared with his brother. He glanced briefly at
Fili to see that he was still there. Then he rolled over to go back to sleep.
He bolted up.
He looked again and gave a soft gasp at what he saw.
Fili’s eyes were open.
* * * * *
“Can you see me?”
Silence.
“Can you hear me?”
Silence.
“Come on, Fi. Are you there?”
Kili had asked the question every way he’d known how, but Fili remained
nonresponsive. Occasionally his eyes would drift closed, stay that way for a
while, and then reopen. But it seemed to happen randomly and not in response to
Kili’s words. And when his eyes were open, Fili still stared at nothing.
Empty eyes, Kili thought.
He knew that his own were filled again with tears.
* * * * *
The noise that came out of Kili was something that started as a gasp of
surprise that shot up through laughter and descended into a low murmur of hope.
When he had touched the waterskin to his brother’s lips and trickled some in
his mouth, Fili had swallowed.
* * * * *
It would get better, Kili knew.
He lay there in the twilight before dreams in the bed with his sleeping
brother. He knew that Fili was asleep and not comatose because when Kili
murmured his name, Fili stirred just a little beside him. He wanted to keep
saying Fili’s name over and over and over because every movement was a
reassurance that Fili was getting better.
But he didn’t. He let his brother sleep.
* * * * *
Kili snapped awake, coughing.
Fire.
“No, NO!”
He leapt out of bed and threw himself flat on the floor. His eyes stung from
the heavy blackness that leeched into the room. Without thinking he grabbed for
his brother and yanked Fili out of the bed. Fili’s limp body thudded noisily
against the floorboards. Kili frantically looked for the source of the fire.
The window. The smoke was coming from outside.
He cursed and picked up his brother and threw him onto his back. Then he
struggled to his feet. It wasn’t that Fili was heavy – he was light, too light
– but still, he was deadweight. That made it a challenge. Didn’t matter. He
gritted his teeth, hooked his hands on Fili’s thighs, and staggered towards the
door.
Then Fili let out a horrible, ragged sound. It was hoarse and unlike anything
Kili had ever heard him make. He stopped when Fili’s body gave a shudder across
his shoulders. The words that came next sounded like they took an extraordinary
effort just to get out.
“Journal,” Fili wheezed. “Bed.”
Kili set his brother down. The smoke was coming in thick now. He didn’t have
much time. He ran to the bed. He tore it apart in his search for something that
looked like a journal, but there was nothing.
“It’s not here!”
“Get…” Fili gasped. “Headboard.”
Kili looked frantically. There was nothing at first. But then he saw it – the
narrow gap in the furniture that he had missed. He squinted and could just make
out a stack of papers hidden in the space. He reached for it. But his fingers
got caught in the gap, too thick and too short to reach it.
“I can’t reach it!”
“Please!”
The pain in Fili’s voice made Kili try harder. He yelled in frustration and
inhaled a chestful of smoke. He descended into a bout of coughing. Then, he
heard it. Horror washed over him as the unearthly roar of Smaug burned in his
ears.
They faced death if they lingered. He had to get them out of there. But he
needed those papers. He would not let Fili down again.
He gave a desperate cry and grabbed the corner of the bed. Then he hoisted it
up and brought it smashing down against the floor. Kili was skinny but he was
still strong, and the bedframe splintered from the force of the impact. The gap
widened just enough. He slipped his fingers inside, scooped out the folded
papers, tucked them into his shirt, and picked up his brother. Then he ran.
He moved as quickly as Fili’s weight and his short dwarf legs would carry him.
Suddenly the ceiling above them exploded in a rain of fire as the dragon ripped
it from the walls. Burning wood showered down around them. Kili nearly lost his
grip on his brother when a spray of fiery cinders hit him in the face. He
screamed in agony. Instinct took over. He ran to the stairs, the way out. He
stumbled down them. He missed the last step and fell into the hall, sending
both Fili and himself sprawling. He shot to his feet. He grabbed up his
brother. Then he moved out through the nearest door. Through the kitchen and
out the back and across the dock and then he was airborne, leaping into the
water.
He plunged in. When he came up he saw the house go up in an explosion of
hellfire. Durin’s bane, he thought. This was the dragon and not the balrog, but
the fire seemed the same. He had to get out of there. He grabbed Fili and held
his head above water and swam away fast, putting distance between them and the
inferno.
Again the deafening screech. He saw Smaug fly over high above him, magnificent
and terrible. Then the beast lurched in the sky and gave something of snarling
wail. It faltered. The dragon began losing altitude. Then it was spiraling down
in a blaze towards the burning city.
Kili escaped as fast as he could through the water. He heard the crash. The
sucking roar of the explosion. He ducked into the water and dragged Fili under
just as a fiery piece of the town shot past them. It ripped across his back and
shoulder. Pain, so much burning pain. Blood in the water. His scream bubbled
out of him and then he was drowning and his singular need was live, live. He
kicked hard for the surface. When he broke it he gasped. Sweet, scorching air
filled his lungs. It burned in his throat and his chest, but it was life.
Not over yet. Desperate, he groped for Fili. His fingers slipped on his
brother’s bare skin. But then he managed to catch a grip on the bandage above
the wrist. He hauled Fili up. He flipped him onto his back and forced his face
up and out of the water. Fili’s eyes were closed again. Kili didn’t know if he
was breathing.
Please, brother. Don’t leave me…
He swam towards the land. Through red water and screaming people and dead
bodies and the burning remnants of the city. His foot hit something soft. Dirt.
Then again. And then he found that he could stand. The earth had never felt so
good beneath his feet. He dragged his brother to shore.
At the lake’s edge he threw his ear down upon Fili’s chest and listened to his
heart. It was there. By Mahal, it was weak, but the beat was there. He heard
Fili splutter and then he gave a desperate laugh and pulled his brother into
his arms and kissed him. Then he brushed the soaking tangles from Fili’s face
as his brother coughed up water. Fili finally caught his breath. Then he opened
his eyes, and when they met Kili’s, nothing had ever been so beautiful.
“Fili…”
Fili blinked. Then something stirred to life there within him. Then he opened
his mouth and inaudibly, he whispered his brother’s name.
***** Chapter 20 *****
Thorin could only watch with horror as Laketown was razed down to the pilings.
Then Smaug went down in an explosive wave of water and debris and scorching
dragon’s fire.
“NO!”
He took off running down the mountain. His company chased after him, screaming
his name, following his lead. But he wasn’t their king right now. He was an
uncle, someone paternal, and he had to get to the boys that he had raised only
to abandon. He had left them there for only a few days, but the destruction had
happened so quickly that he couldn’t be sure that they’d gotten out.
If they had died…
He couldn’t bear to think that. He ran faster.
There was no way he could have sprinted the whole way down the mountain. He
wasn’t built for distance, and when the adrenaline wore off, he had no choice
but to slow. But he didn’t stop. He had to get to them.
It took many hours and he was near exhausted before the first signs of
destruction made themselves known. Night had fallen and he heard the faint
sound of a woman’s voice sobbing. Then more voices. Frantic yelling in the
distance. His energy rushed back to him and he started running again.
“Kili!”
He screamed for his nephews when he began to see the devastation. Scorched
earth and blistered young trees first. Then dead people. All were big folks
except the children. So many had burnt to death. Many of those who still lived
were charred and screaming in agony. Most would die of infection. His heart
skipped a beat.
“Fili!”
He ran past the dead and dying. His despair grew with each desperate step. The
healers and the soldiers and those with minor wounds rushed to help their
brethren. There were no dwarves among them, harmed or otherwise. He continued
to yell out their names until his voice was hoarse. The sound of it was
swallowed by the cries of others who also did the same. All had lost kin. All
had lost someone to the dragon’s fire.
At last he came through the blackened forest to the edge of the lake. More
bodies here. Littered on the shore and floating in the water.
“Kili!” The sound of his voice rang out across the pond. “Where are you!?”
“Thorin!”
He harkened to his nephew’s cry and shoved his way through the disorder to get
to Kili. None of the big people paid him any heed, too caught up in their own
losses to even notice him. He screamed for Kili again and heard him, closer
now. Then, he saw them. His relief came out of him in a bellow as he rushed to
his injured nephews.
Kili looked terrible. Something explosive had struck him in the head. One side
of his face was bloodied and burnt where he had been hit. But he still had his
eyes and his ears and apparently his strength, for he was on his feet in an
instant. As he ran to Thorin, the king saw the brutal wound on Kili’s back and
shoulder. Thorin rushed to him, but Kili shook his head as he caught his uncle
by the arms.
“I’m fine,” he coughed. “I’ll be fine. It’s Fili.”
Thorin looked past Kili to where his heir lay, stretched out on the ground and
covered in soot and a threadbare blanket. He rushed to Fili’s side and sank to
his knees. He couldn’t tell if Fili was alive or dead. Thorin pulled him into
his lap and tears flooded his eyes.
Kili dropped down to his knees beside Thorin. “He’s unconscious,” he gasped.
Then Kili fell to the ground and gave a long and ragged moan as the rest of the
company caught up to them. With them there, Kili’s agony finally seemed to
affect him.
“Oin!” Thorin cried. “Help Kili!”
Thorin turned back to his heir. Fili felt so frail in his arms. When Thorin
brushed a hand over Fili’s matted braids, Fili’s brow furrowed just a little.
“I’m so sorry,” Thorin whispered. He should never have doubted Fili, never have
distrusted him. There were so many things he never should have done. “My lad.
My love. I’m sorry…”
He touched his forehead to the face of his beloved. Then he let his eyes fall
closed and felt the pang of bitter regret.
* * * * *
They made their way as swiftly as possible back up to the mountain. It was slow
going with his nephews, but they had to get to safety. Now with the dragon
gone, Erebor was empty. If the dwarves didn’t reach it first, someone else
would stake a claim. Thorin Oakenshield would die before that happened. He
needed his homeland now. They all needed it now.
Thorin had sent the fighters on ahead to guard the kingdom, but he himself
lingered back with the slower part of the company. Oin and Bombur and Ori,
along with his injured nephews. Kili could walk fine. Fili, however, had
remained unconscious. To get him to Erebor, they had wrapped him in the thin
wool blanket and had slung him across Bombur’s back. As they made their way
home, Thorin walked beside his big companion and barely took his eyes off his
heir.
The sight of what had happened to Fili was like a knife in Thorin’s chest. In
getting Fili ready for the journey, Thorin had seen the damage. He had seen it
all. Fili’s skin looked like paper over bones. His tangle of hair was singed
and matted with Kili’s blood. It fell back away from his neck to reveal the
long red scar at the base of his skull. A scar that was some months old and
that Thorin had never seen before. That scar and others, the yellowing bruises,
the bandaged wounds beneath the blanket – all were the telltale signs of months
of rape and torture.
The sight of Fili now filled Thorin with the need to murder.
They hadn’t found Dwalin. The warriors had searched the entire survivor camp
but the monster was nowhere to be seen. Dwalin was gone, dead in the wreckage
or fled. A part of Thorin hoped it was the latter because then he could still
kill him.
Thorin’s grief and his malice only grew as Erebor came into view. Every time he
looked at the face of his cherished nephew, he stoked the rage in his heart.
With every passing step the fires grew. By the time he saw the secret door,
Thorin’s hatred for Dwalin had become an all-consuming hunger for blood. And
when they entered their homeland, it was a bittersweet thing, for nothing would
feel right until Thorin had sought his vengeance for all that had been stolen
from him.
***** Chapter 21 *****
“For you.” Kili set the map down on the desk in Thorin’s study. The thing was
rippled and stained blue with the ink from Fili’s journal. Thorin paused in his
writings and looked down at the ruined map. “I’m sorry I couldn’t return it in
better condition.”
“It’s fine,” Thorin said softly. “Sit.”
Kili did as he was told. He sat down in one of the gilded chairs across the
desk from his king. Thorin had resumed his writing. The mithril-tipped quill
scratched quietly on the vellum. Kili kept his hands folded in his lap. He
waited.
Kili glanced around a little, taking in his surroundings. The study was unlike
any that he had ever seen. The room had been carved straight into the stone by
master craftsmen. The ornate stone pillars curved upwards like flames towards
the high ceiling and disappeared into the shadows. The deep fireplace was
filled with a roaring fire whose orange light reflected off the seams of gold
in the stone, left in place as much for beauty as to demonstrate Erebor’s
wealth. Huge likenesses of his ancestors stood carved into the walls, gemstone
eyes glittering in hues of garnet and ruby and onyx. The fire of Durin’s line,
burning still in the eyes of his kin, forever set in stone.
All the fire in this room made him uncomfortable.
Sitting there in his dirty rags of clothing, his wounds still half-tended and
in need of further attention, Kili felt nothing like the kings that now watched
him from above. He turned back to his uncle. Kili was glad to be on the lesser
side of the desk.
Thorin laid down the quill and sprinkled the ink with drying powder. Then he
blew it off, folded the vellum, poured thick melted wax onto the seam, and
pressed his seal into it. Then he addressed the letter and set it aside.
“I am sending for our cousin, Dain Ironfoot,” Thorin explained. “Once the elves
find out that we have ousted the dragon, they will be dangerous. I do not trust
Thranduil to let us keep what is ours if we do not bolster our numbers. Too
much has been stolen from our people.” Thorin folded his hands upon the desk
and looked at Kili pensively. When he spoke again, he was no longer the King
Under the Mountain, but Kili’s solemn, sober uncle. “You did a very noble thing
in saving your brother’s life.”
Under any other circumstances, Thorin’s praise would have made Kili swell with
pride. Now, it just made him feel small.
“How long did you know?”
“A few days,” said Kili. “I learned it the morning Dwalin attacked me.”
“You both said that you were the instigator.”
“I did,” Kili admitted. He felt the flush of shame rising behind his ears.
“Why did you lie?”
“Because I knew that if I didn’t, he would hurt Fili.” It occurred to Kili then
that there probably was nothing he could have done to stop what Fili had gone
through in the days that followed. It was Dwalin’s crime, but it still felt
like Kili’s burden. “I didn’t want him to suffer.”
“Your loyalty to Fili is a strength. But in a matter as dire as this, you
should have come to me the moment you knew.”
“I tried. Before the attack, I tried to find you. But he found me first. He – I
yelled at him and he tried to choke me. It hurt so I fought back. I thought he
was going to kill me. And if not that…” The slithering memory of Dwalin’s
tongue on his skin tingled beneath the burn on his cheek and ear and neck. “I
thought he was going to do to me what he did to Fili.”
“He cannot hurt you that way,” Thorin reassured him quickly. “Dwalin will never
feel arousal for anyone…” His voice faltered. “He will never want anyone but
Fili.”
Kili dropped his eyes to his hands. He stared at his thumbnail, which had
turned black and had come loose. He picked at it now. He pulled it off and
winced as he exposed the raw nailbed beneath.
“Thank you for telling me the truth,” Thorin said. “Fili is safe. His body will
mostly heal in time. But his soul…”
Kili looked up at his uncle then. Thorin had turned and was staring into the
flames.
“He will never be who he once was,” Thorin murmured. When he spoke again his
voice was laced with malice. “Dwalin is a seasoned, remorseless fighter who
wars with zeal. Everything is a weapon in his hands. Your brother is barely
older than you. Barely an adult. Still vulnerable. For months, Dwalin used the
mating bond to beat him into submission. Dwarves do not recover from that.”
Kili felt his mouth turn down into a sad frown and his eyes welled up with
tears.
“I loved him.” Thorin seemed to mourn as he said it. “I love him still. But I
did not see what was being done to him. Blinded by my jealous pride, I took him
for a fool. Had I but known… He hid the damage from us all because I taught him
to hide his suffering. That destroyed him. His silence, his obedience to that
creature – I should have seen it for what it was. I was the fool, Kili.”
Kili didn’t know what to say to any of it. His words were always so stupid
anyways. He kept his silence.
“If Dwalin lives, we need to ensure that Fili is kept safe until we can condemn
the rapist for his crimes.”
“I thought Dwalin died in the fire,” blurted Kili. The possible alternative
shot corrosively through his blood.
“We will not know until Fili wakes,” Thorin said. He suddenly turned back to
Kili. “You were there with him in Laketown for days. Did he say anything to
you?”
”Ah,” Kili started. “No, but…”
He suddenly remembered, then dug in the pocket of his doublet. He had saved the
papers from the fire and had kept them on his person once they had returned to
Erebor. Until Fili could wake, it was no one else’s business. But now, Kili had
the sense to hand it over. He brought it out and set it on Thorin’s desk next
to the map.
Thorin picked up the wad of near-ruined paper. He unfolded it gingerly and a
furrow formed between his eyebrows as he inspected it. The thing had been
soaked in the lake. It had not fully dried between the layers of Kili’s damp
clothing. Thorin had to be gentle to keep from destroying it. When Thorin
finally got the fold open, Kili could see that the ink had dissolved and run
through the stacked sheets of paper. But still, just barely, he could make out
Fili’s gauche runes.
Thorin squinted to read the first few lines. His hand slowly went to his mouth.
He looked back at Kili in alarm.
“I didn’t read it,” Kili said quickly. “I don’t know what’s in there.”
Thorin’s breath came out in a low shudder. He furled his hand into his fist and
inhaled sharply through his nostrils. Thorin Oakenshield was stemming tears.
“Kili,” Thorin swallowed. “Your injuries should be tended. Leave me, and get
yourself to the infirmary. Am I clear?”
Kili nodded. He stood without a further word. With his head bowed low he left
the study, leaving his brother’s secrets in their uncle’s careful hands.
***** Chapter 22 *****
Fili was drifting in blackness. It was like sleep but dreamless. He was usually
aware of his dreams and never of the blankest parts of slumber. But now the
nothing was his world. It was all he knew.
* * * * *
He was without a body as he drifted through the void. Death was not as bad as
he had once thought it would be. There was no pain without a body. There was no
rape without a body. If he’d had a face he might have smiled at the thought.
* * * * *
Something felt cool on the mouth he didn’t have. The blackness had never felt
like anything before. But now there was something there. It was sweet and
quenching.
When the sensation faded he wanted to ask for more. But no one existed to hear
him.
* * * * *
When the pain hit him, it shot through the raw nerve that was the entirety of
his being. Little flecks of red winked in and out of the black. He screamed but
there was no sound because he was nothing but a faceless, exposed wound.
Now something painful dug into him and he could not fight it. He remembered the
feeling. Violation against which he was powerless to defend himself. But when
it was done there was no planting of the seed that pushed him further into the
night. This time when the act was done his world remained red. It hurt, but it
was clean.
Soon the pain receded. With it, the color faded and the black came home to
swallow him.
* * * * *
He continued to drift. There was nothing again.
Then a sudden burst of shining white light cut like a knife through the
blackness. It seared itself into the eyes he didn’t have. He would have held up
his hand to block out the pain but he could not move a bodiless self.
It burned. It hurt worse than the red. This was blinding. He hated the light
and wanted it to die before it destroyed the warm dark which had become his
refuge. But when it finally began to diminish he changed his mind. He didn’t
want it to leave him. As if it had heard his cry, it stayed with him as little
more than a distant pinprick of white. A single star in an otherwise lifeless
sky.
He did not know what stirred him to drift towards it. The want for something
different, perhaps. A change of scenery. He did not know what lay beyond the
blackness of his world, but he knew that if he stayed here, it would be the
last thing he ever knew. So he chose to follow the light.
* * * * *
Because he had no body he could not tire. As he moved the light grew larger
until it was like the dawn of a cold, blue morning in the mountains.
He knew then that if he could see, he had eyes. If he had eyes, he could open
them. And so he did.
* * * * *
There wasn’t much to see in this new world. Oaken beams in a wooden plank
ceiling. A deep blue tinge to everything. But he could see. And soon he could
feel too.
Motion came back first. His mate must have been in the bed beside him. He felt
sadness then, for he knew that by coming back to his body, he was returning to
life in Dwalin’s world only to be eaten again.
But the face that suddenly appeared above him was different. Young, barely
bearded. Full head of hair. Eyes brown, not icy blue.
Kili’s mouth moved by no words came out.
Fili still heard his brother’s voice within his head.
* * * * *
The only part of his body that Fili had strength to move was his eyelids. What
energy he had left he spent on opening and closing his eyes. His world
alternated between what he knew was reality – the bed in the wooden room in the
wooden house of Laketown; his brother’s face; his brother’s imagined voice –
and the comforting land of the dead.
He still had too little strength for the real world. So he lingered in the
black from time to time in order to preserve what little life he had recovered.
His energy ebbed and flowed, and when there was enough he’d open his eyes
because that meant he might see his brother.
* * * * *
“Fili.”
It was a whisper. Not in his head but in his ear. It had crept in through the
darkness and the sound of it was warmer and more comforting than the gentleness
of his void.
He rewarded the keeper of the voice by stirring the muscles in the corpse he
was returning to live in. It hurt to move, but he wanted Kili to know that he
knew he was there.
* * * * *
He heard the sounds of screaming long before he smelled the smoke.
Agony shot through his being as someone dragged him from the comfort of his
darkness. He thudded hard against the unforgiving floor. The world came rushing
back in a blur of heat and heavy smoke.
Kili hauled him up onto his back and made to run.
Emotion suddenly came rushing into Fili’s being. Terror and rage and the need
to live. It was Dwalin, fighting for his life. If Dwalin survived he would come
again for Fili. He would force him back into that darkness where time and
memory and hope no longer existed. He didn’t want to go back into the night.
Fili could barely remember the salvation that he’d wrought for himself – the
papers, the cruelty captured in them. He couldn’t recall what he had even
written. If the pages were lost to the fire, so too would be the truth.
But Kili was leaving.
Fili poured all his strength into gasping through his torn throat. Kili
stopped.
“Journal,” he wheezed. “Bed.”
Kili set him down on the floor. Breathing was hard through the smoke.
“It’s not here!”
“Get…” Fili gasped. “Headboard.”
“I can’t reach it!”
“Please!”
He heard a loud crack and then Kili had him again. Hoisting him up and fleeing
the hellfire.
The strength of Dwalin’s terror was driving Fili back into unconsciousness. He
started to slip between the worlds of fire and darkness until everything
changed and suddenly he was in water. Now he was going to drown. But a hand on
his face forced him up and when he inhaled it was air that flooded his lungs.
Something dragged him back under and he tasted blood in the water. He choked on
it.
He knew again that he was going to die. The thought had once been a release,
but now it filled him with despair. Death meant leaving his brother without a
warning. Death meant leaving Kili without the knowledge of what happened to
those who weren’t lucky enough to die young.
But Fili didn’t die this time. Something held him back. Then suddenly he was on
the earth. Coughing to expel the offending water from his chest. And soon he
could breathe.
He opened his eyes. There above him, bloodied and burnt and drenched, was Kili.
His baby brother kissed him, overjoyed, and in that moment no one had ever been
more worth living for.
“Kili…” he whispered. He smiled. Then he succumbed to the black.
This time when the darkness took him, he no longer drifted. This time he stayed
still, anchored by Kili’s embrace.
***** Chapter 23 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Thorin sat in his study, staring at the water-worn diary upon his desk and the
devastating truth captured in their pages. The horrors that Fili had lived
through. Nothing had prepared him for what he had read there, not even the
wounds that he had seen on Fili’s body. Now that he had finished, he did not
know entirely what to do.
It was times like these that he would usually seek out Balin. But now, he could
not do that. He had no wish to lay the burden of what Dwalin had done upon his
good friend. He had no choice but to handle this on his own, without Balin's
guidance.
Balin already knew part of the truth, Thorin knew. The entire company knew
something. They had all seen Fili’s injuries after the fire, and all knew that
something dark and terrible had passed under their noses for months. Balin had
been among the company that night, and though Thorin hadn’t seen how Balin had
reacted, he knew Balin was no fool. He would not have shied from the fact that
Dwalin, his own brother, had inflicted irreparable damage upon Fili. That
pained Thorin, and he had avoided Balin ever since the lake in order to put off
any further suffering.
But there was only so long that Thorin could have put off the issue. He had
learned his lesson about delaying in matters of the throne. But that made it no
easier to do what now had to be done.
Thorin Oakenshield knew firsthand how hard it would be for Balin to accept
Dwalin’s fate. Though Thorin had never had reason to question Balin’s loyalty,
Thorin had siblings of his own. The bonds between siblings ran deep, almost as
deep as the bond from parent to child. Thorin had loved his own brother and
sister far deeper than any words could describe. He had been the eldest of the
three, and had been followed by Frerin, then Dis. His dear sister still lived,
and she was thankfully safe back in the halls of Ered Luin. But Frerin had died
young, barely old enough to wield a sword in the battle that had killed him.
Frerin had been a rambunctious lad, but smart and curious too. His blue eyes
had always been laughing. But when Thorin had found him dead on the
battlefield, child’s body defiled until he was only recognizable by the armor,
nothing had ever hurt so badly.
The death of a younger sibling was among the worst pains for a dwarf to bear.
Thorin had no desire to inflict that upon Balin now. But before he was Balin’s
friend, he was Balin’s king, and a grievous crime had been committed. Now, as
King Under the Mountain, Thorin Oakenshield was bound by his crown to follow
the laws of his people.
He gave a heavy sigh. He took up his quill and a stack of heavy vellum. Then he
began to write.
November the fourteenth, 2941, The Third Age of the Sun. Herein is an excerpt
taken from the journal of Fili, son of Dis, heir to Thorin II Oakenshield, King
Under the Mountain. The events listed herein occurred beginning in mid-June of
this same year until early July.
He clenched his jaw as he thought about how long his nephew had suffered. Then
he drew in a sharp hiss, stemmed his sorrow, and signed the page beneath his
header. He then began to transcribe Fili’s frail, faded runes. The writing that
started in Thorin’s neat and precise hand soon descended into sharp, aggressive
strokes of the quill. The mithril tip dug into the vellum, searing the words in
place in both ink and deep impressions in the pages. He let his anger and
hatred of Dwalin flow out of him into the runes, and when he had finished, he
could read the malice of the transcriber there in his nephew’s emotionless
words.
Then he drew three hard, horizontal lines into the vellum. He paused to regain
his composure. Then he dipped the quill into the bottle of ink and resumed his
writing.
Let the following be taken as the witnessed testimony of Thorin II Oakenshield
to the crimes of rape, assault, and torture endured by Fili, son of Dis, at the
hands of his mate, Dwalin, son of Fundin. Additional crimes beyond those
recorded above have been committed since July until Durin's Day, November the
eighth, 2941. Upon today's date, Fili remains in the infirmary in Erebor
receiving treatment for wounds sustained.
He then proceeded to describe the physical harm that had been done to Fili.
Every wound and scar went into the vellum, documenting the atrocities committed
by Dwalin. By the time Thorin had finished the testimony, the fire had died
down to embers in the hearth. He set the quill down, massaged the ache from his
palm, and signed the document once more, this time on the last page. Then he
numbered them all. Finally, he poured a pool of the heavy sealing wax onto the
bottom of the last page and pressed his royal seal into it until it was dry.
Now he was ready to mete out justice as a king.
He stood and went to a series of bell pulls along the wall. He tugged upon the
first one to summon the dwarf standing guard outside the study. The door opened
and Gloin poked his head inside. Thorin quickly gave him his task, and when
Gloin disappeared, Thorin sat down again at his desk.
Several minutes passed. He arranged the documents neatly upon the heavy,
lacquered heartwood of the desktop. More time went by. As it did, Thorin
thought long and hard about the words he was going to say. Finally, the door
opened again. This time, Balin joined him in the study.
The old dwarf stood at the threshold as the door closed behind him. For once,
he did not meet Thorin’s eyes.
“Balin, my old friend.” As Thorin addressed him, Balin looked up and met his
gaze. Thorin gestured for him to approach, then held his hand out at the chair
across the desk. “Sit.”
Balin took up his seat. He folded his gnarled hands in front of him and waited
for his king to speak.
“You know why I have summoned you.”
“I believe I do,” Balin said at last.
“You were there at the lake,” Thorin said. “You saw what was done to my heir. I
would hear it in your own words just what you believe happened to Fili.”
Balin’s swallow was audible and the color drained from his face. He drew in a
long breath. When he finally spoke his voice sounded old, weary.
“I am not certain,” Balin murmured. “I believe that I saw the results of…
several months of violent treatment. I saw that Fili was attacked and” – his
voice faltered – “and sexually brutalized.”
“Raped,” Thorin corrected.
Balin quickly shook his head. “No,” he said. “Some dwarves do things like that.
Some enjoy the pain. I cannot say whether it was forced. To accuse Dwalin of
rape is to condemn him to death.”
“I know that!” Thorin slammed his fists down upon his desk. Balin jumped in his
seat. Thorin sucked in a breath to steady himself before he continued. “Dwalin
is your brother. I know that this is difficult for you. But you are my advisor
and my closest friend, and we are both too old to hide from the truth. Dwalin
raped Fili to claim him as a mate, and then he used the soul bond to exert
power and control over my heir until it nearly killed him.” He tossed his
transcription of Fili’s journal across the desk. Balin glanced at it, but
didn’t pick it up. “Read,” Thorin commanded.
Balin picked up the sheaves of vellum as if they might burn him. He glanced at
the first page and looked away quickly after he had seen what was written
there. It took him a long time to look back at the runes on the page, and when
he finally committed himself to reading it took him even longer to finish.
Thorin waited. Eventually, Balin finished the last page and set the
transcription back down upon the desk.
Thorin leaned in towards him and waited for Balin to meet his eyes. Then he
said, “You know what this means.”
Balin gave a hard sniff. Then he shook his head again. “I do not believe it.”
“Are you calling this a lie?” Thorin’s voice had gone cold as ice. He picked up
Fili’s tattered journal and waved it in Balin’s face. “After seeing the
physical damage, after reading Fili’s own words transcribed by the hand of your
king, you would call the prince of Erebor a liar?”
Balin trembled and squeezed his eyes closed. He buried his face in his hands
and suddenly looked as ancient as he was. When he finally looked back at Thorin
his eyes were red and bleary.
“I do not wish to believe it,” he clarified. “Those words accuse my brother of
one of the highest crimes among our people. The punish – The punishment is
death and burial without honor.”
“It fits the crime,” Thorin hissed.
Balin curled his hand into a fist, but restrained his sudden flare of anger.
“Please understand why I cannot simply bring myself to accept this about my
brother.”
“I do understand.” Thorin softened his voice. He reached across the desk and
touched his hand to Balin’s fist. Then when Balin’s fingers unfurled, Thorin
grasped them to convey just how much he understood. “I held my brother’s
lifeless body in my arms on the fields of Azanulbizar until they burned his
corpse. Nothing compares to that pain. Not the death of my grandfather, nor the
disappearance of my father. You know that you are not the only dwarf to suffer
from the fate met by your kin.”
“That was war, Thorin. This is not.”
“This is war,” Thorin snapped as he withdrew his hand. He pressed a heavy
finger down upon the testimony. “This is treason. This is Dwalin stealing what
is not his. This is the rule of our kingdom, taken by force. Look me in the eye
and deny to your king that this is not an act of war.”
Balin glared at him. Then he looked away. When his eyes fell closed the tears
slipped out of them and slid slowly down his old and wrinkled features. “I
cannot deny it,” he whispered slowly. “But please forgive me if I cannot accept
it now.”
“Fine,” Thorin said. He leaned back in his chair. “If you will accept it in
time, I will not force you to be present at the sentencing or the execution.”
Balin gave a pained gasp at that and pressed his hand to his mouth. His tears
flowed in earnest now. Thorin did not cave in. “You are dismissed.”
Without a further word Balin rose, then obeyed his king. As he disappeared into
the hallway, Thorin was reminded of why, when the burden of the crown grew
heavy upon the head, a king truly had no friends. To bear a crown and to wield
its power was to ultimately be alone.
He gave a long, slow sigh and neatly folded the vellum and sealed it on the
seam. He dropped the transcription into a drawer in his desk and locked it
shut, then he stood and pocketed the key. As he straightened his tunic he eyed
the weathered blue papers that still sat on top of his desk. He picked them up,
folded them carefully, and tucked them into a pocket over his breast. Then he
left the study, locked it behind him, and gave a nod to Gloin. The warrior
returned his look with a grim nod, then stepped in front of the door and folded
his hands atop his battleaxe as Thorin left for the infirmary.
He walked with purpose through the ancient halls of his realm. Even after all
these years, he still knew the paths through Erebor as if he had never left. As
his feet took him into the depths of his kingdom, he ruminated, heedless of the
splendor of his heritage looming around him. Instead of dwelling on the glories
of ages past, he now looked to the future. It was a bleak future, a dark one,
and one that the dwarves had been slowly crawling towards for centuries since
the Dark Days.
The future was war, and it was unavoidable.
The dwarves were a warlike people by their nature. With every generation or the
ascention of a new king, there was inevitably some reason for the dwarves to
fight. They warred against others mostly, an outside threat such as the elves
or the orcs or the dragon, but sometimes they warred against each other. That
was because they were proud, and no dwarf would easily accept the authority of
those who could not best them in battle.
War had never troubled Thorin Oakenshield before. War was the way of life. It
was a constant struggle for survival against those who would drive the dwarves
into submission. The dwarves had only ever sought to conquer the earth, but
because of the wealth that the earth had yielded to them, others had always
tried to grind them into the dirt. They had learned to fight back, and now they
were always fighting. Over the long years, they had come to live and breathe
and eat warfare. Even in times of relative peace, as Dwalin’s actions had
shown, their kind were always finding ways to battle for something.
Thorin himself was not so different from the norm. He relished battle, the feel
of the enemy dying at his hands. Moreover, he had used conquest to prove his
right to lead a kingdom of dwarves. The recent conversation in the study proved
just how much valor meant to his kind. Balin’s loyalty had been won at the
Battle of Azanulbizar. Even now, when faced with the death of his nearest and
dearest of kin, Balin had ultimately deferred to the laws of his king instead
of his own heart.
Because of that, Thorin realized, he had been right all along. In the house of
Beorn, he had predicted that Fili could no longer inherit the crown. It was not
because Dwalin would rule through him now. Rather it was because a vulnerable
king was a weak king, and weak kings did not rule dwarves for long. Though he
undeniably loved Fili, perhaps even more so now after what had happened, Thorin
knew that it was because of Fili's suffering that he could not take the throne.
Fili’s body would never fully heal. He would never again be fit for the wars
that as king, he would have to lead. His heart, too, no doubt had changed.
After being forced into submission, Fili had convinced himself that he was
helpless. It had been there in his own journal, in his own coarse hand – I let
Dwalin rape me.
No king of dwarves would ever let that happen to him.
It saddened Thorin terribly, for Fili would have been a king of legends. He had
been a capable warrior and a loyal, responsible heir. Brilliant, too, when his
mind wasn’t clouded by the rashness of his youth. But now, that good prince was
dead. The potential for legend had been beheaded before it could mature, and
now Thorin had no choice but to accept that the inevitability of fate.
So it was, life. It was hard, it was brutal, and it was war. And now, Thorin
had lost a major battle. He could not afford to lose another.
At last, Thorin came to the infirmary. By now, the only solace he had left was
that Fili was still alive. Though Thorin would not know how much Fili’s spirit
had changed until he woke, where there was life, there was potential. Fili
might recover into something good still. Thorin still cherished and loved him,
even if Fili would never be his Cherished One. And perhaps now more than ever,
permanently weakened as he was, Fili needed the gentleness of his family.
When at last Thorin came to Fili’s bedside, he looked down at what he saw. Kili
had crawled into the bed with his brother. Now the pair lay asleep, both
bandaged and healing from their wounds. Thorin stood for a moment and watched
them sleep.
While he was grateful that Kili had been cleaned and tended, it was Fili who
captured most of his attention. Fili slept soundly on his side, knees drawn to
his chest. He had been washed from head to toe. Someone had trimmed back the
charred hair on his head and shaved the burnt braids from his beard. With his
locks cut short and his beard reduced to stubble, Fili looked like a child. A
skinny child, a helpless one. More than ever now, Fili looked like he needed
Thorin to care for him. No longer to be groomed as an heir, but to be protected
and loved and cherished.
Thorin pulled a chair up to the side of the bed. Before he sat in it he pressed
a kiss to Fili’s temple. When Fili moved a little beneath his lips, Thorin
promised never to let harm come to Fili again. Then he took up his seat in the
chair and watched his nephews sleep, one against the other. And then, at long
last, his weariness caught up with him. He let his eyes fall closed and then
dozed off into the warmth of dreamless rest.
Chapter End Notes
     I tried to keep the dates approximately what they should have been in
     the Hobbit - House of Elrond in June, Durin's Day at the end of
     Autumn - but they are liberal as compared to the canon dates. Thanks
     for not stringing me up by my not-so-pointy ears.
      
      
     ** Update on 4/25/13: Regarding dates again - I changed the dates by
     a few weeks to give the dwarves more time in 2941. Because that year
     is canonically important, and I needed the timeline to work out
     approximately according to canon.
***** Chapter 24 *****
The darkness of Fili’s world was penetrated by the gentle crackle of a fire in
a hearth. Then he heard his own breathing against a pillow, soft and steady.
The sound was accompanied by a low ache in his ribs. He stirred at the
unpleasant feeling.The motion brought him fully out of sleep and back into his
body. He opened his eyes.
His vision adjusted to the orange light of the room around him. He realized
that he didn’t know where he was. Suddenly panicked, he bolted upright. Pain
shot through his body. He gave a sharp gasp and pressed his hands against his
broken ribs and the searing place behind his right knee and tightened his back
against the burn of fire across it. When he felt the hand close on his shoulder
he cried out in terror.
Dwalin was back to brutalize him.
“No!”
“Fili, it’s okay!” The voice said. Too gentle. Still deep though, like
Dwalin’s.
“Get” – Fili pushed against the dark-haired face he saw in front of him. Then
when he felt the hands pressing him down again into the mattress he screamed
and fought. “No, please!”
“Fili, you’re safe!” Another voice in his ear. Familiar. “You’re safe, my lad.
He can’t hurt you here.”
“Fili,” the first voice said. “Shh, Fili. It’s me. It’s your brother.”
His eyes flew open and in the orange light, Kili came into focus. The side of
his head was white.
“Kili – ” Fili mouthed wordlessly in confusion. Kili’s face, his face! “What –
did he...”
“Fire,” Kili said quickly. “The fire. Do you remember?”
Fili didn’t remember that. All he remembered was pain. He was still in pain. He
arched his back and scrambled his hands in the sheets, but his fingers wouldn’t
grip anything. As he thrashed his legs the right one throbbed behind the knee
and would only half obey him. Even despite all that, he was weak compared to
the hands that held him. All his fighting was useless. His captors gripped him
hard by the shoulders and kept him down, thrashing into the mattress.
“Oin!” The second voice bellowed. “Quickly!”
Fili gasped for air. His throat felt like it was burning. Then something soft
that smelled of plants was pressed against his face. He inhaled deeply until he
realized what they were doing. By the time he caught his breath, it was too
late. The drug had begun to take effect. His muscles failed and he went still.
And then as his heart began to steady, the pounding haze of panic slowly began
to ebb. Then the terror faded entirely.
Finally, he opened his eyes. There above him, three dwarves came into focus –
Oin held a rag in his hand; Thorin wore a look of grave concern; and Kili was
in bandages. Through his tears, Kili actually smiled.
“You’re safe,” Kili said. He gave a soft laugh. “Oh, Fi…”
“Fili,” Thorin said. “You’ll be all right. You are in Erebor. You’re safe. He
can’t hurt you here.”
The information flooded into Fili and pooled inside his chest around his heart.
He felt Dwalin within him as they both realized where Fili was. Fili closed his
eyes and grasped for the sensation of his mate. Something familiar, something
that was not being this broken, helpless thing before the eyes of his closest
kin.
Dwalin was in pain. Burning pain. But soon there was a rush of relief and want
and sadness all at once as Dwalin sensed that Fili was still alive. Then there
was the sudden need to take back what had been stolen.
Fili let out his breath in a shudder and slinked away behind the ruin of the
wall he had built for himself. It wasn’t much now – a few crumbling stones that
surrounded the burned-out innards of a city – but it was all he had. So now, he
took refuge there, and in his mind he slid to the ground and buried his head
between his knees and wept.
“Fili.”
The gentle sound of his uncle’s voice was like a soft breeze wafting through
the gaps in Fili’s burnt-out fortress. He opened his eyes at the sound. When he
did, Thorin came back into focus above him. There too were Kili and Oin, much
as he had just seen them.
“What happened?” Fili asked softly. His voice was raspy and sounded strange in
his ears. He coughed to clear his throat, but when he spoke again, the rasp
remained. “Uncle?”
“We’ve brought you home,” Thorin said. He glanced at Kili and gave his younger
nephew something of a terse, proud nod. “Kili saved your life.”
“I – what?” Fili looked from Thorin to Kili, then back to Thorin. He had no
idea what they were talking about.
“The fire,” Kili said. He wiped a hand across his nose and sniffed heavily. “Do
you remember?”
Fili shook his head in confusion. “I don’t… I… What?”
Thorin looked at Oin in concern. “What did you give him?” he asked.
“Wha?” Oin held his hand to his ear and Thorin repeated his question, louder
this time. “Oh, give him. Ah. Aye. Uh, a sedative. Meant to calm th’ nerves.”
“Does it make him slow?” Thorin tapped his finger upon his temple.
“Not slow,” Fili murmured. He swallowed down what tiny scrap of pride he had
left. They’d already seen the damage. There was no use hiding it now. “Hurts,”
he clarified.
“Oh, Fi…” Kili pressed his fingers to his mouth. He then glanced over at Thorin
and they exchanged a dark look.
Fili frowned up at them. “What happened?”
“Do you remember anything?” Thorin asked him.
Fili searched his memories. Nothing came to mind. But then, darkness. The smell
of smoke. “Fire?”
“Yes,” Thorin nodded. “Laketown was burned. Kili saved your life.”
Fili looked over at Kili again. His brother made no move to wipe away the tears
that now flowed down his cheeks. Suddenly it all came back to him like a wave,
all the images and sounds and smells and feels. The blackness he had dwelled in
for who knew how long, the searing light of day that had cut through it. The
calm he had felt just knowing Kili was there beside him. Then the fire. The
journal. The lake. And finally, the need to live.
He didn’t really feel that anymore. Not at the moment.
Fili slowly lifted a bandaged hand and traced his fingers over the swath of
white on his brother’s face. “Kili…” he murmured. “Why did you do that? I can’t
ever repay you.”
“You’re my brother,” Kili said softly. “You owe me nothing.”
That should have been a comfort. Instead it just made Fili feel worthless. He
had done nothing to earn such love and self-sacrifice. If anything, he’d
deserved to die in the fire.
“You could have been killed,” he whispered.
“You would have died if I hadn’t helped you, stupid.” Kili pressed his forehead
to his brother’s. “I don’t want to lose you.”
Fili sighed and closed his eyes. He kept his hand against his brother’s cheek,
but he still felt nothing in the way of joy or love or gratitude. All he felt
was pain. But for once, he wished he could feel something in the way of emotion
because he knew that it would feel good.
“Fili.”
The soft sound of Thorin’s voice broke Fili away from his thoughts. He opened
his eyes again and focused on his uncle.
“I must know, is Dwalin alive?”
Fili swallowed the painful lump in his throat. Then he nodded slowly. “He’s
hurt,” he said. “But he’s alive.”
Again, Thorin and Kili exchanged a dark and troubled glance.
“What does that mean?” Fili asked. “What – What does that look mean?”
This time, Thorin gave a nod to Oin. The healer got the message and departed.
The three of them were left alone – the two injured heirs in the bed, their
uncle at the bedside. Now, Thorin took a seat on the edge of the bed and
grasped one of Fili’s bandaged hands. When he spoke again, the voice he used
was the same that he’d used when Fili was a child. Thorin had only used it in
the hardest of times – when they’d nearly lost their home in that bad winter,
when the boys' father had died – and now, Thorin used it again.
“Fili, lad. I know what happened.” Thorin reached into a pocket in his tunic
and pulled out a rippled and blue-stained fold of paper. Fili recognized it as
the remains of his journal from Laketown. Thorin set the journal on Fili’s
chest and placed Fili’s palm flat upon it. “I read it. I know the truth. Rest
assured, Dwalin will get what he deserves.”
Fili gave Thorin a glare. “What is that? Death?” He gave a sharp cough, but it
did nothing to ease the hoarseness of his voice. “He’s still here” – he pressed
his hand to his sternum beneath the papers – “and even if he dies, I can’t be
free of him.”
“You can,” Thorin reassured him. “If he dies, his soul will diminish within
you. If he is buried without honor, what remains of him will never pass into
the Halls of Mandos. Then when you… When you die after what I hope will be a
long and happy life, you will be fully free of him.”
Fili was silent. So indeed, only the afterlife would ever be a true escape. A
small part of him then longed for the warm and comforting nothingness in which
he’d once found himself drifting. But that was not death. Not for most dwarves.
The void was what his soul had become after months of being mated, and it was
where Fili would return to stay forever if he died before his mate. The
knowledge of that left a sinking sensation in his chest.
That sensation was a feeling so he suppressed it. He had gotten good at
suppressing his emotions. But drained as he was now, the action left him tired,
so very tired.
“Please leave me alone,” he said. His own voice sounded pathetic in his ears.
He turned back onto his side and curled his knees up to his chest, wishing he
didn’t care that he’d become so powerless.
He heard Thorin and Kili exchange a few inaudible whispers. Talking about him,
no doubt. The shame he’d brought to their family. He closed his eyes and in the
darkness, he imagined his wall. In the black he began to rebuild it stone by
stone, not caring if the thing was crumbling and charred and likely to collapse
at the gentlest of rebukes. So much for being strong. As he thought the words,
the few stones he’d put into place slipped and came tumbling down around him.
“Just go.” He tried and failed to hide the shakiness in his ragged voice.
“Please, I don’t want you here.”
“All right, my boy.”
If possible, Thorin’s voice was even gentler. It had been years since Fili had
heard that voice. But now, instead of comforting him, it just reinforced the
feeling that something vital and fundamental to Fili’s being had been stripped
away from him.
The sooner he was alone, the better.
Then at last, Thorin departed. Fili watched him go. Then he got the sense that
Kili was still there in the bed beside him. He turned over and regarded his
brother. Kili looked back at him sadly. Then Kili dropped his gaze and began to
pick at his fingernails.
“What are you doing?” Fili asked sharply. “Can’t look me in the eye?”
Kil shook his head fiercely. Then he looked again at Fili. “No,” he said. “Oh,
Fi… I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.”
“Shut up,” Fili snapped. Kili looked stung. He drew his lip up between his
teeth. The gesture just pissed Fili off. “I don’t want your pity.”
Kili buried his head in his hands. Fili watched as his brother started to cry
softly. A part of him was disgusted. Another part was furious with himself for
hurting Kili like this. A third part, a dark part, delighted in seeing the lad
suffer.
But Fili didn’t want to feel any of it. He just wanted to be left alone.
“Get out,” he hissed.
Kili gave a sound of despair, but he obeyed his brother and got up out of the
bed. As he departed he looked over his shoulder at Fili, but he didn’t turn,
and he didn’t come back.
Now that Fili was alone, he suddenly wondered what in Durin’s name was wrong
with him. He’d driven away his nearest kin with his damned worthless feelings.
They weren’t even his, he realized then. They were Dwalin’s. Even in that,
Dwalin had control of him now. Dwalin had first stuffed himself up into Fili’s
body, then he’d stuffed himself into his mind. Now Dwalin was befouling his
insides, like orcs in a mountain hall. And given the uncomfortable sensations
that lingered in Fili’s body and soul, he knew that neither the physical nor
the spiritual harm would ever be fully healed. He suddenly realized that the
right question wasn’t what was wrong with him, but rather if anything was still
right.
There’s nothing wrong with you, he suddenly heard in his mind. You’re perfect,
like gold.
Dwalin again. Would Fili never be rid of him?
He broke down then and wept softly into the pillow. It didn’t matter anymore,
he thought. He was what he was now – something weak, something broken.
Something never to be whole again.
Just as well, Fili thought. That was what Dwalin had wanted. And now, he would
always be Dwalin’s.
* * * * *
Fili hadn’t remembered falling asleep. But this time when he awoke, he wasn’t
startled by the warm orange light from the fireplace. Nor was he melancholy. In
fact, he didn’t feel much of anything at all outside of the hurts of his body.
The dark cloud that had surrounded him when he’d drifted off to sleep had now
returned to its place on the horizon of his thoughts.
Dwalin was sleeping.
Whenever Dwalin slept, Fili felt a little more like himself. But he wasn’t much
of anything anymore. Just a broken, skinny body whose bones ached where they
dug into the matress. He wondered if he should eat something. But then again,
maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to starve to death. There were worse pains than
hunger, worse things than the darkness of the void.
Instead of thinking about food, he just curled his knees back to his chest and
let the pain in his belly pass. Then when it did, it took with it what little
energy he’d had left. And so he slipped away again, gently into the night.
* * * * *
When he awoke again it was to the smell of something vaguely sweet. He opened
his eyes and saw Oin above him, a steaming bowl in his hands.
“Yer very thin, laddie.” Oin said, a little loudly. “Ye won’t heal if ye don’t
eat.”
Fili didn’t move. It hurt to move, and right now he didn’t have the strength to
even pull himself up off the mattress. Oin seemed to sense his frailty. The
older dwarf set the bowl down on a table at the bedside and gently reached
under Fili’s arms and pulled him up. Oin lifted him easily, too easily. Through
it, Fili didn’t resist.
Once Oin had carefully set Fili up with a pillow behind his back, bandaged
hands resting in his lap, Fili hazarded a glance down at his body. The sight
should have been jarring. It should have affected him somehow. But the bones he
could see through the thin fabric of his shirt didn’t really bother him. He
could see his slim, knobby fingers poking out from beneath the wrappings on his
left hand. Those didn’t bother him either. If he could have seen his face in a
mirror, he probably wouldn’t recognize the skeletal creature staring back. But
that would have been okay, too. He simply didn't have it in him right now to
care.
With his hands all bandaged up and useless, Fili had no choice but to acquiesce
to letting Oin feed him. It should have been humiliating, but it wasn’t. When
he tasted the first bite of the light, honey-sweetened gruel, it was bland and
dead on his tongue. He could only finish half the bowl before his stomach began
to ache from the sensation of fullness. He shook his head at Oin, who insisted
on three more bites before he set the bowl back down on the bedside table.
“Ye finish that when ye can, lad.”
Fili said nothing. He just sat and stared off at the far wall, waiting for Oin
to leave him alone again.
It was easier to feel nothing when there was no one else around.
* * * * *
In the infirmary, there was little for Fili to do except rest and ruminate.
Even after he had eaten, he had very little energy. And since being awake hurt,
he spent most of his time asleep. He slept in small doses where Oin had propped
him up in the bed, head tilted back against the hard wooden bedframe behind
him. When he was awake, he sat in much the same position. Only then, his eyes
were open. When they were, he could see the hearth beyond the foot of his
hospital bed.
There wasn’t much to see in this hall beyond the dance of the flames. Several
beds lined the long, high walls, and each was empty except the one he lay in.
Every now and then, Oin would return to check in on him. Occasionally the
healer would give him something to ease the discomfort. The drugs helped a
little, but not much. But that was okay, because Fili was good at ignoring
pain.
The fire helped, he decided eventually. Now he thought he knew why Thorin
always stared at fires.
* * * * *
He didn’t know how long he had stayed there in the bed before he felt Dwalin
stir inside him. When he did, Fili closed his eyes and took comfort in the
familiarity of his mate’s presence. In his mind, he could feel that Dwalin was
hurting. He was lonely. He wanted Fili with him.
Through the bond between their souls, Fili felt a sudden pang of yearning for
his mate. He wanted to be taken up in Dwalin’s strong arms and be caressed and
fondled and made pliant in his lover’s embrace. It was Dwalin who wanted that,
Fili knew. But feeling Dwalin’s emotions, especially when they were sweet, was
sometimes better than the void.
Slowly Fili raised his right hand to his mouth. With his teeth he undid the
bandages until he had unwound his fingers and his palm. He let the wrappings
fall to the bedspread. His palm had three deep and haphazard gashes across it
from thumb to littlest finger. Defensive wounds from the glass. He flexed his
hand, but he couldn’t even touch his fingertips to his thumb.
So it was, being crippled.
He undid the wrappings on his left hand. This one was better, and he could
nearly close a full fist. It was his dominant hand, and now, it would do the
trick.
At Dwalin’s urging, he took himself up in his left hand and began to stroke. He
couldn’t get hard at first. But he thought about being Dwalin’s again, having
Dwalin inside him, having Dwalin’s teeth in his skin and brutal hands around
his throat, and then he was able to enjoy it a little. Still, his body didn’t
want to cooperate. He lingered at a steady state of half-arousal. But that was
enough, it seemed, for he could feel Dwalin’s pleasure mounting inside him.
Fili then imagined Dwalin pinning him down upon the hard stone. Dwalin was
fucking him until he was scraped and bruised and torn open again in that place
that was Dwalin’s, that sheath that Dwalin had claimed. If Dwalin could see his
thoughts, then he would now see the images that Fili had painted in his mind.
Dwalin would know how good Fili felt to be hurt. Indeed, Fili began to feel
Dwalin’s pleasure growing within him. Fili helped his mate along by slipping
his right hand beneath the covers and digging into himself until his muscles
contracted sharply against the violation of his own fingers. The pain was
enough to get Dwalin’s sensations to peak, then diminish, and then finally fade
entirely.
Fili exhaled softly. He let himself go, unfinished. He didn’t think he had it
in him anymore to finish. That was okay, though. He didn’t need the pleasure of
climax.
After all, that was a feeling, too. And he didn’t want to have feelings
anymore.
But the tears still came at the end of the coitus, emotionless as always.
* * * * *
To pass the time in the slow and monotonous world of the infirmary, Fili mostly
slept. When he was awake, he listened in on Dwalin’s presence within him.
He didn’t know what Dwalin was doing. He’d never been able to sense as much of
Dwalin as his mate could sense of him. But he knew what Dwalin was feeling. He
was feeling angry right now, frustrated. Possibly searching for that hidden
door. Possibly trying to dig through the rubble at the gates of Erebor. Or
perhaps it was something entirely different, but still a necessary task in the
quest to get Fili back.
I’m sorry, my love, Fili told his mate. I don’t know how to get in.
As Fili sensed Dwalin’s sudden burst of fury, he sank down into the bed and
curled up beneath the covers. He pressed his wounded hands to his ears and
squeezed his eyes shut, but that did nothing to block out the anger he felt
inside him.
The only defense that Fili still had was the broken little wall in his heart.
He came to it now and hid from the beast that raged on the other side. There in
the safety of his ruined castle, he had a dangerous, rebellious thought. Maybe
he didn’t want his mate to find him after all.
* * * * *
The hours crawled by slowly in the infirmary. Fili managed to adjust his
sleeping schedule so that he slept when Dwalin was awake, and was awake when
his mate slept. It wasn’t perfect, and there was always overlap between the
times when one of them slept, but it helped Fili just the same.
Oin continued to bring him food and water and medicine. The healer had said
nothing after Fili had removed his bandages. Instead, Oin had taken it as a
sign that Fili could feed himself. And so he did. He cupped the bowl with his
mostly useless right hand and used his left to spoon up the gruel. Though it
still tasted like ashes, he truly did start feeling better after every meal he
had.
Oin was good at what he did. For that, Fili was grateful. Sometimes he missed
his brother and his uncle, but then he remembered what shame felt like, and was
glad that only Oin had to bear the burden he’d become. And Fili did indeed
think of himself as burdensome. He needed help in everything, whether it was
sitting up against the pillows or using the bedpan or setting his bowl on the
bedside table. But Oin, true to his kind healers’ heart, helped Fili patiently,
without complaint or judgment.
And sure enough, with the help of Oin’s good hands, Fili’s body began to
recover. Eventually Oin removed the bandages from every place but behind Fili’s
knee. As he did so, Fili watched as the damage was revealed.
It wasn’t as bad as he’d expected. The bruises had all faded and the wounds had
sealed up. Every gash now had the rich, pink color of a fresh and healthy new
scar. He examined his forearms and saw why he couldn’t close his right fist.
But at least he could control the left, and that was the hand he favored.
Finally, he reached for Oin. The healer turned at the touch of Fili’s hand upon
his elbow.
“Could I please have a mirror?”
Oin pulled an ornate golden ear trumpet from his pocket and leaned in towards
Fili, eyes wide in concentration.
“A mirror?” Fili repeated, louder.
“Oh! ah” – Oin bobbed his head and pocketed his ear trumpet. Then he gathered
up the bandages and scurried off down the infirmary, hollering over his
shoulder, “I’ll bring ye one!”
Eventually Oin returned. He pressed an ornate, bejeweled golden hand mirror
into Fili’s hands. Fili traced his fingers along the filigree and the
gemstones. Garish, he thought. The wealth held in that small mirror would have
fed a dwarven family of four through a long and brutal winter.
“Might I be alone?”
Oin cocked his head, puzzled. He made to reach again for his ear trumpet but
Fili shook his head, then nodded towards the door.
“Oh! Oh, aye.” As Oin understood, his face grew serious. He pointed a thick,
healthy finger at Fili, then at the back of the mirror. “Ye don’t be troubled
by what ye see there, laddie. Ye’re still healin’ so ye’ll look a wee bit
rough. Remember that.”
Then Oin took his leave. Fili watched him go, somewhat chilled by the ominous
words. He drew in a long breath and let it out in a sigh. That helped. His
apprehension diminished until he could push it back into the pit where he kept
all of his feelings.
Then he was ready. He looked down at the back of the mirror. Then he turned it
over and held it up.
A stranger looked back at him. That poor creature hardly even looked like a
dwarf anymore. He was thin, so thin. Prominent bones cast shadows over the
hollows in his cheeks. The thick yellow locks had been cropped within inches of
his scalp. His short beard, a testament his recent coming of age, had been
reduced to coarse blond stubble.
The stranger looked like a youth, younger even than Kili. But the eyes were
ancient. Those blue eyes looked almost elven. Wan and distant and timeless.
Fili realized that he didn’t know what this creature was. The creators didn’t
make things that looked like this.
He set the mirror down, unable to look at himself any longer. He massaged his
temples to rid himself of the headache that had settled there. He slid down in
the bed and curled up on his side beneath the covers. Then he closed his eyes
and waited to fall asleep. But as he lingered in the antechamber between
wakefulness and rest, he felt Dwalin stir and awaken inside him. The sensation
brought him out of his comfortable darkness.
Before Fili could push the image from the mirror out of his mind, Dwalin had
sensed its presence. Dwalin then delved into Fili’s mind and feasted his eyes
upon the fragile, distorted shell that he had made of his mate. Then Fili could
feel Dwalin’s pleasure and his satisfaction at what he saw.
I like you this way, m’love, Dwalin’s voice said within Fili. A delicate golden
flower. You’ll be trampled out in the world, but I’ll keep you safe in my
heart. Just let go, let me take you. I’ll keep you safe forever.
Fili tried to clear his mind of the thoughts that Dwalin fed him through the
mating bond. But there had never been much he could do to fight off the
advances of his mate. He lay there in the bed, trying not to remember the image
he’d seen in the mirror, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was, he
imagined, because Dwalin kept dwelling on it. And because Dwalin was so much
stronger than he was, it was easy to let Dwalin’s thoughts become his own.
It wasn’t always so bad. This time, Fili decided, was one of those times. And
so he let his eyes drift closed. He brought himself back into the twilight
before dreams, and there, he let himself feel whatever Dwalin wanted him to
feel. Right now, Dwalin was being gentle. Right now, it was a good thing that
he would always belong to Dwalin.
Fili gave himself over to his inevitable fate. He was so thin, he knew. It
wouldn't be long before the comforting void entombed him for all time.
Eventually Fili was brought out of the twilight once more by the now-familiar
clink of a bowl on the bedside table. The sound was accompanied by the soft,
sweet smell of the honey-flavored gruel. His stomach gave an eager growl in
anticipation of being fed. But Fili didn’t get up to take the food. Instead, he
listened to the urging of his mate. He lay there until his hunger began to
diminish. Then when the pangs finally receded into the darkness, Fili took a
small comfort in the strength that he still wielded over the basest of his
instincts.
* * * * *
It was only four missed meals before Thorin burst into the infirmary and
stormed up to Fili’s bed. Kili was close on his heels. Furious, Thorin grabbed
Fili by the shoulders and shook him hard.
“What are you doing to yourself!?” Thorin bellowed.
Fili cringed at his uncle’s outburst of anger. He recoiled, thinking that
Thorin might hit him. But then something changed in Thorin’s eyes, and he
suddenly pulled Fili into a tight embrace.
“My lad, my sweet lad,” Thorin whispered sadly. “Why aren’t you eating?”
I can’t, Fili wanted to say. He won’t let me. Instead, he lied. “I don’t know.”
Thorin pushed him back and held him at arms length. “You need the nourishment,”
he said as he cupped Fili’s cheek in his hand. “Please, don’t do this to me
now.”
“Fili?”
Kili had joined Fili on the bed. Someone had removed Kili’s bandages. A wide
swath of fresh, taut skin stretched down the side of his face from his hairline
to the nape of his neck. Burns in the process of healing, Fili knew. Something
twisted painfully inside him at the sight.
“Ki…”
“Fili, eat something,” Kili pleaded. He took up Fili’s scarred left hand in his
own. “Please?”
Fili shook his head at Kili. Again, Kili and Thorin exchanged one of their dark
glances. Thorin gave a frustrated growl and slammed his fist against the
headboard. Fili jumped at the impact.
“Damn it, Fili!” Thorin grabbed him by the shoulders once more and pulled his
face in close. Beneath the rage on the surface, there was despair in Thorin’s
eyes. “I can’t lose you again!”
“Why?” Fili demanded suddenly. “Why do you care anymore?”
“Because you’re my nephew!” Thorin cried. “Because I love you! Don’t you see
that!?”
“Do you?” Fili used what little strength he had to wrench himself free of his
uncle’s grasp. “Then why did you let this happen to me?”
Thorin fell silent.
“You told me that you wanted me!” Now that Fili had found his voice, he refused
to be forced back into silence. He berated his uncle as loudly as the rasp in
his throat would let him. “You never asked me until it was too late. Why, why
did you delay? You knew – you knew – that I wouldn’t have a choice but one of
the company. But you denied me the only choice I wanted to make. I would have
asked you if you had not been my king!”
Thorin’s eyes went wide at the revelation.
“How was I – your subject – supposed to ask you? You should have asked me. Why
didn’t you ask me?” Fili shuddered out the last of it. “I loved you, Thorin.
And I wanted you so much.”
A look of deep regret passed over Thorin’s features then. The tears welled up
in his eyes. He swiftly wiped them away. Then he bowed his head.
“I am so sorry, Fili.” Thorin finally met Fili’s eyes again. “I am sorry that I
delayed. I was the fool, my boy. I was the fool.” Then Thorin did something
very strange. He began to weep. He sank down until his head was resting against
Fili’s bony shoulder.
Fili didn’t know what to do. His brief and foreign burst of anger disappeared
as quickly as it had come. Now, all he wanted to was hold Thorin in his arms.
He wanted to let him know that everything would be all right. But he knew it
wouldn’t be. Not anymore. Nothing was right anymore.
Nonetheless, he wrapped his thin arms around Thorin’s waist. Fili then let
Thorin lift him unresisting into his lap. There, Thorin cradled Fili as if he
might break him. Then he pressed a kiss, a kiss both chaste and mournful, to
Fili’s lips. When at last they parted, he placed Fili’s frail hand in the
center of his broad, strong chest.
“Fili,” Thorin whispered, “You have always been here within me. I love you,
though I know I’m not supposed to. We’re dwarves. We can’t. But I love you
still, and I don’t know why. I have cherished you for longer than you can
remember. And I will cherish you forever.” He kissed Fili once more. Then
Thorin said, “You are mine if you want to be.”
Fili knew that Thorin spoke the truth that was in his heart. He wanted to stay
there, pressed against the one he could have had. This was the one he should
have been with all along, the one he still loved, Mahal, he loved Thorin so.
But he could never embrace him beyond a kiss or the gentle touch of hands. They
would never share souls and they would never be as one, for Fili belonged to
another.
At the thought of his mate, Dwalin’s jealousy boiled up in Fili, stronger than
he had ever felt it before. He knew then that Dwalin would kill him for this
betrayal. Though Dwalin cherished Fili just as much as Thorin did, Fili knew
he’d die at Dwalin’s hands just so that Thorin couldn’t have him. But that was
not why Fili pulled away just then. He didn’t care so much if he died anymore.
Death would be a release, a return to the gentle void for eternity. It wasn't a
good thought, but it wasn't so bad either. And Fili knew deep down that even
after he had died, Dwalin could never harm another the way he had harmed his
mate. Yet it was none of that which drove Fili back from his uncle now.
Instead, it was Dwalin’s presence aching in their soul, Dwalin’s love and
avarice burning deep within Fili like fire. He didn't want to feel that way
about his beloved and his king. And so Fili denied himself the comfort he so
desperately wanted and needed. He knew he could never have it, even if he’d
deserved it. So at last he shook his head. He pushed his uncle away.
“I can’t,” he whispered. “I’m his.”
Thorin sniffed softly. Then he pressed his forehead to Fili’s. His eyes drifted
closed and Fili did the same. There in the darkness they shared the warmth of
the only love that they would ever have – the love of an uncle to his nephew,
the love of a king to his successor – for the other love that had started to
blossom between them had died many months ago, beaten to death in a far away
land by the hands of a ruthless killer. Then, as if knowing Fili’s heart,
Thorin let him go. He gently eased himself out from under his nephew. He laid
Fili down on the bed and kissed his short hair. He brushed his fingertips
through the beard that was no longer there.
“You eat something,” Thorin said at last, softly. “I won’t lose you again.”
Fili didn’t want to eat. But he loved his uncle. And so he said, “all right.”
He pulled himself back up to rest against the headboard. Then he reached for
the bowl and picked up the spoon and stared at the gruel. He forced himself to
eat despite Dwalin’s screaming fury inside him. The food was bland, lifeless.
The usual. But his body seemed to appreciate the meager gift nonetheless. Fili
made it through most of the bowl before he set it down. When Fili had finished,
Thorin took the bowl from Fili’s hands and gave him a small smile.
“Thank you,” Thorin whispered. He kissed Fili once more upon the forehead.
“Could I be alone again?” Fili asked his uncle.
Thorin glanced at Kili.
Kili chewed on his lower lip, then said, “I’m gonna stay here.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to leave you alone,” Kili said. Then he clarified, “I
don’t want to be alone, Fi.”
Fili sighed. Once more, he had nothing for himself. No longer even solitude.
But then again, he was never really alone anymore anyways. And to be fair,
there were worse bed companions than his wide-eyed, curious brother.
Perhaps a part of him was glad that Kili would be staying. Kili was the only
person left in the world who didn’t want anything from Fili but his friendship.
That knowledge was enough to break through the shadows and the bleakness of
Fili’s world, and now Kili’s indomitable cheeriness was like a narrow beam of
sunlight amidst the thunderclouds. Fili was hesitant to acknowledge it at
first, knowing he’d be punished for it if Dwalin ever found him. But that
didn’t matter anymore. The worst that Dwalin could do short of killing him,
he'd already done. So Fili found the strength in himself to ignore the raging
storm and focus on the light. As he embraced the warmth of the sun, he reminded
himself that his little brother was someone good and worth living for. That was
true even if Fili himself didn’t feel like any of that. And somehow, for
whatever reason, Kili still wanted to be near him. So he gave his brother a
nod, and agreed to let him stay.
Kili beamed at him. Then he mussed up Fili’s hair.
* * * * *
Thorin watched the two from his place at the foot of the bed. For once, Kili
moved carefully as he joined his brother beneath the covers. Once in the bed
together, the boys exchanged a look whose meaning Thorin was not privy to. He
smiled anyways. Then, realizing that he had worn out his welcome, he got to his
feet. He pressed a palm to the back of each nephew’s head, a decades-old
reminder that they were loved and that he was proud of them.
Then Thorin Oakenshield departed, leaving his cherished golden boy with his
strong, loyal, and finally worthy heir.
***** Chapter 25 *****
Chapter Notes
     Please be advised. This chapter contains graphic descriptions of
     intended sexual violence and suicidal ideation that some may find
     triggering.
For a long while after Thorin had left, Kili lay on his side in the bed next to
Fili, staring at his brother. Fili stared back.
“Hey, Fi.”
“Hi, Kili.”
“You okay?”
Fili didn’t answer that.
Of course he’s not okay, Kili reminded himself. Of course not. “Can I ask you
something?”
Fili nodded.
“Do you still feel him,” Kili asked slowly, “even though he’s not here? In
Erebor?”
Fili didn’t answer that either, not at first. He let his eyes drift closed and
he drew in a deep, weary sigh. Then he nodded a little.
“The only time I don’t feel him is when he’s sleeping,” Fili said softly. “Or
when I’m sleeping. But then I dream of him. And sometimes, he dreams of me.”
Fili’s words twisted low in Kili’s belly. He couldn’t even imagine what that
had to feel like. He remembered how sickened he had been by the merest touch of
Dwalin’s tongue upon his skin. But Fili, poor Fili – he'd had it so much worse.
He still had it worse. Dwalin was still inside him, eating away at him and
consuming the small bit of strength that Fili had left.
Kili wondered then if Thorin had been right after all.
* * * * *
The day that Fili had awoken, Kili had finally learned of Thorin’s plans.
The meeting had been that evening. He hadn’t really wanted to go, but he’d had
little choice in the matter. He was Thorin’s nephew and his subject, so Kili
was used to following Thorin’s commands. But this had been the first time that
Kili had been summoned as more than just a prince. This time, he’d been an
heir.
After Kili had left the infirmary that morning, he had gone down into the
treasury. His task, when he wasn’t spending time with Fili, was to help find
the Arkenstone. He’d hoped that seeing the mountains of gold would help rid him
of the sting of Fili’s words.
What are you doing? Fili had sneered at him. Can’t look me in the eye? Get out.
It hadn’t helped, being down in the treasury. But not because of the gold. It
was because of the other dwarves.
The company was mostly quiet as they sifted through the treasure. They were
still troubled by what had happened to their prince. But no one said a thing.
No one knew what to say. And through it all, they avoided Kili like the plague.
As if acknowledging his presence was to bring up the looming darkness that
everyone knew about but no one wanted to face.
It hurt, being down there amongst his kind. He’d never really felt like a very
good dwarf anyways. He was skinny and he was beardless and though he was good
with a sword, he was at his best with a bow. But being ostracized for those
undwarvish things paled in comparison to the loneliness he felt then. None of
them could even look at him. His companions acted as if he wasn’t even there.
And so he soon left empty-handed, unable to bear it any longer. He left despite
the knowledge of how proud Thorin would have been if he, Kili, had been the one
to find the Arkenstone.
Sometimes, the pursuit of glory wasn’t worth the pain required to take it.
He took to walking through the halls of Erebor then. The solitude was good for
once. But he missed his brother. Eventually when he tired of walking, he went
up to the halls that housed the royal apartments. He went into his chambers and
took up a seat on a plush sofa in the sitting room. Then he’d dozed off,
troubled and wishing his brother could be there beside him again.
He was startled awake by the sudden thumping of a fist on the door. He got to
his feet and opened the door, and outside in the hall stood Gloin. The warrior
looked at him awkwardly. He shifted from foot to foot. Then Gloin dropped his
gaze. It was hardly better than what Kili had experienced in the treasury. But
at least this time, Gloin had the decency to look his prince in the eye again
to tell Kili of Thorin’s summons. And at least when they went down the hall to
Thorin’s chambers, Gloin clasped a big, compassionate hand to Kili’s uninjured
shoulder. The gesture seemed to say, we’re all on Fili’s side. That had
bolstered him. He’d walked into Thorin’s study with his head held high and
proud.
Sadly, what little hope that Kili had gotten back was swiftly cut down in the
meeting by Thorin’s sharp, fast mind. Kili had never been much match to anyone
in argument, but that was especially true of his uncle. Thorin was a genius.
Compared to him, Kili was young and so very, very stupid. He’d been a fool to
think that he could have won a battle of wits. But that didn’t mean that he
hadn’t tried.
* * * * *
The wood in the fire gave a heavy pop as the flames rent the log in two. The
sound made Kili uncomfortable. The memory of the fire was too recent in his
mind, the burnt skin on his head and shoulder and back still painful to the
touch.
He couldn’t even imagine how much pain his brother was in.
Dwalin had been in the fire too, Kili knew. There hadn’t been a quick way out
of that cellar. It might have been easier to tear through the floorboards
directly into the lake than to try the cellar door. But Dwalin had probably
still been burned in the process of trying to escape. Kili wondered if it was
only the emotions that Fili could feel, or if he felt Dwalin’s burns as if they
were also his own.
“Fili?”
“Kili.”
“Does he… Can you feel him when he’s hurting?”
Fili closed his eyes. He then dug a thumbnail into one of the red, healing
scars on his right palm.
“No!” Kili cried as Fili winced in pain. He grabbed his brother by the wrists
and pulled his hands apart. “Don’t do that,” he scolded.
“He felt it,” Fili told him softly. He swallowed. Then he gave a low gasp.
“He’s angry now.”
“Oh, Fi…”
Kili pulled his brother into his arms. He knew that Dwalin would feel the
embrace and might hurt Fili through the bond, but he still couldn’t stop
himself. He desperately needed to reach through the darkness to Fili. He needed
Fili to know that he was still loved despite whatever Dwalin made him think or
feel.
* * * * *
Kili’s meeting with his uncle in the study started off with the feel of a
lesson. It began with the Arkenstone and the company’s search for that
priceless treasure. In the days since they’d been in Erebor, everyone but Fili
had spend time digging through the gold. They still hadn’t found it, and they
needed to find it. Quickly, too. The elves and the men of Laketown were growing
restless. They were clamoring for a piece of the treasure that wasn’t theirs.
It was only a matter of time before things might escalate to swords. Throughout
the first part of the meeting, Thorin drilled Kili on his knowledge of war and
strategy. As he was grilled, Kili imagined why they called the King’s Study a
study. It was hard intellectual work, being a king.
Eventually Kili realized that the whole time during the meeting, Thorin had
been laying out a strategic problem of the crown. He was seeking Kili’s input.
Kili’s solution was to strike first, ask questions later. That was how he knew
how to handle disputes. It usually worked pretty well. But Thorin didn’t like
the idea, not without a viable strategy to execute it.
Kili scratched his head, drawing a blank. Then he asked, “What about Dain?”
Thorin gave him a nod. “Good,” he said. “You'll remember, I sent for him and
reinforcements four days ago, when we first arrived. What else?”
Kili frowned and chewed his lip. Then he shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“Dain will move quickly, but he won’t be here for some time. Several days or a
fortnight, at least. You suggested a preemptive strike. Go back to that. How
would you do it?”
“Warriors?” Kili shrugged. “Gloin and Dori?”
“You’re a warrior too, Kili.” Thorin’s voice was calm, but he seemed to be
losing patience. “You, as prince, would lead them. You are responsible for
bringing them back alive. How would you orchestrate your attack?”
“I don’t know,” Kili said. “I don’t think I could. Three dwarves, against an
entire camp of men? We’d get killed if we just attacked.” He shrugged
helplessly. “Maybe it was a bad idea.”
“I’m glad you see the error in your thinking,” Thorin said. He sounded
satisfied. “It wasn’t a bad idea to begin with, but you need strategy before
just rushing into an attack. Until you can come up with something better, our
best plan remains to find that stone. I need you to return to the treasury and
keep up the search. And think hard on strategy while you’re there. Count coins
if it helps get your mind working.”
“But what about Fili?” Kili blurted.
Thorin was silent for a moment. When he spoke again his tone had changed. Kili
couldn’t decide if he sounded sad or angry.
“What about him?”
“Shouldn’t we spend some time with him now that he’s awake?”
Fili had to be lonely, Kili imagined. Even if he had driven them away this
morning, Fili wasn’t a solitary dwarf. He loved to be around others, and Kili
thought that it might be good for him to be with family.
But Thorin shook his head. “There is little that we can do for Fili just yet,”
he said. “He’s still very weak. Oin will help him recover his strength a bit
before we return to see him. I think our presence there only makes him feel
ashamed.”
“You actually think that?”
“I do,” Thorin said quietly. “I’m not ashamed of him. Mahal, no. But he doesn’t
understand that. Dwalin’s grip on him is still very strong. And until Fili’s
body recovers to the point where it’ll sustain itself and keep him from just” –
Thorin gave a sharp, hissing exhale through his teeth and clenched his fist. He
pressed his knuckles to his mouth as his eyes teared up, but he quickly
regained his iron composure and swallowed down his sorrow. “If Fili gets the
notion that we don’t value him because of what’s he’s been through, he may just
give up entirely. That’s why he pushed us away this morning. He’s so frail now
that he could just will himself to death if he felt like it. My goal is to not
let that happen. So Oin will heal him to a point where his body won’t let him
die. Then we’ll see what we can do about bringing your brother back.”
Kili sat there in the chair, digesting what Thorin had just told him. He didn’t
know what to make of it. There was so much in what Thorin had just said, and it
all made logical sense. But Kili knew his brother. Fili didn’t enjoy solitude,
and he’d never been one to feel the sort of shame that Thorin described. Fili
was proud, for he was a dwarf, and he probably did feel ashamed. But Kili
didn’t think that Fili would simply let himself die from shame. He was too
stubborn for that, and loved life and the world too much to simply let it all
go.
But Kili didn’t know how to put that into words. And he certainly didn’t know
how to say Thorin was wrong in a way that his uncle would understand. Thorin
didn’t respond to appeals to sympathy. What emotions Thorin appreciated were
anger, grief, vengeance, and pride. None of those would help here. But at least
Thorin understood logic. Kili wasn’t smart, but he was smart enough to know
that his only chance of swaying his uncle was with a solid, logical argument.
So he did his best to force his mind into a rational mode of thinking. It was
foreign, unfamiliar. He frowned and concentrated on his words, chewing his lip
in thought. But before he could even begin to come up with his counter to
Thorin’s argument, his uncle spoke again. The words that came out of Thorin’s
mouth swiftly unraveled Kili’s entire web of thoughts.
“We need to do something about Dwalin,” Thorin said. “He’s still at large, but
I suspect he’s close. If Fili is correct and Dwalin is injured, we may get
lucky and take him down in combat. But then again, there are other factors at
work that prevent us from just leaving to hunt him down. Such as…?” He waited
for Kili to finish the sentence.
“Um…” Kili racked his brain. “The elves?”
“Yes, exactly. And the men. And Dain. They could all find Dwalin before we do.
Dain would crush Dwalin and bring me the head. But our enemies – they may try
to help him if they believe it’ll get them into the mountain.”
Kili’s head was spinning. There was too much information, too many different
interacting variables to think about. But then suddenly, a snippet of what
Thorin had just said coalesced into a coherent thought that popped up out of
the haze. He grabbed hold of it. Then he spat it out as quickly as he could.
“Dain knows what Dwalin did.”
“Yes, he does.” Thorin was nodding. “Dain will know everything I put in the
letter four days ago. He knows that we’ve retaken our homeland. He knows that
the elves and the men are a threat. He knows about the fire, he knows about the
Arkenstone, and he knows that we need reinforcements.” He was silent for a
moment. Then he said, “He knows about Fili.”
* * * * *
Fili had dozed off at some point in Kili’s arms. When he was sleeping, Fili
looked peaceful. The near-permanent furrow between his brows had gone shallow.
The tightness he now carried in his jaw and slender shoulders had eased. He
slumbered deeply, evenly. He’d never been much of one for tossing and turning.
Kili eased himself out from under his brother. He scooted to the edge of the
bed, reached under it for the chamber pot, and relieved himself. When he
finished he tucked the pot back under the bed and made to slip his maleness
back into his trousers. Then he stopped. He looked down and regarded himself.
The thought had never occurred to him that it could be used as a weapon. It
looked so silly, that thing. Hardly like it could hurt anyone. But then again,
he had never experienced that sense of adult arousal. It had never grown heavy
with need or thick with the yearning for touch. It was just another odd-looking
part of Kili’s body. He was too young for it to be anything else.
Kili remembered how funny Fili had looked when he’d gotten his first seed. Fili
had bolted up in the bed in Bilbo’s house, clutching at his groin and moaning
softly as the first sign of adulthood came shooting out of him. Kili had been
startled awake by the commotion, fearing an ambush. But then he’d seen the
tented fabric and the stain in Fili’s underthings. It looked like he’d stuck
something into his pants as a sort of prank. Kili had burst into laughter at
the sight. He’d guffawed uncontrollably until Fili had shoved him out of the
bed and they’d gone crashing to the floor. Only once Kili had bashed his head
into the end table and Fili had thumped his funny bone on the bed did they stop
their wrestling. They fell to the floorboards, chests heaving, laughing
together about the whole affair.
“That’s so strange,” Kili had said when he’d caught his breath. “How’s it do
that?”
“I don’t know,” Fili had shrugged. “Looks funny though, doesn’t it?”
“Sure does.”
They’d crawled back into the bed and Fili had let out a sigh as he’d looked up
at the ceiling. Kili had turned to watch him.
“Guess this means I’m a grown-up now,” Fili had said.
Kili had scowled at him in the dark. He punched Fili in the arm. “Not fair,”
he’d said. “You’re not supposed to grow up and leave me behind.”
“You’ll grow up too, some day.” Fili had turned to face Kili then. He’d frowned
at his brother in the low light. “Why do you want to grow up so fast?”
“I dunno. You get to see more things. You get to go on adventures. Uncle Thorin
doesn’t think that everything you say is stupid. You get respect as a grown-
up.”
At that, Fili had turned once more to stare at the ceiling. Then he’d said, “I
don’t know if I want to grow up yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because growing up means going to war,” Fili had said. “War means you have to
kill people. I never want to have to kill anyone.”
“But you get to be king,” Kili had said. “You’ll get to do whatever you want.”
Fili had sighed. He had turned over in the bed and put his back to his brother.
He then had pulled up the blankets over his muscled shoulders as a sign that he
was done talking about it. Then quietly, he’d whispered, “Yeah, I guess.”
Kili felt a deep ache of sadness at the memory. So long ago now, it seemed.
Since that night in Bag End, they had both grown up so quickly. Fili had been
dragged against his will into adulthood, and his coming of age had been like
the splash of a pebble in a pond. The waves that propagated outward had
affected everyone around him. And though Kili was still technically a child,
what had happened to Fili had aged him beyond his years. He wasn’t really much
of a lad anymore. And now, he’d come to realize why Fili might have never
really wanted to grow up at all.
* * * * *
In the study, Kili’s mouth dropped open at the revelation of what Thorin had
put in his letter. He suddenly regretted ever having shared Fili’s journal with
their uncle. He was furious now.
“How could you tell Dain about Fili?”
“Fili’s a prince,” Thorin explained. “It’s a matter of our kingdom. A prince is
never entirely his own person.”
“But Thorin!” Kili cried, frustrated. His mind was suddenly awash in every
reason why Thorin shouldn’t have told Dain – It’s his body, not yours. Fili hid
what happened for a reason. You’re betraying Fili’s trust. Fili can’t defend
himself when he’s unconscious. It’s no one’s damned business but Fili’s,
especially not the kingdom’s. To the Balrog with the kingdom! – But when he
tried to say everything all at once, his words came out in an incoherent
stammer. He slammed his fists on the desk in frustration.
“Kili, listen to me!” Thorin barked suddenly, startling Kili into silence.
Thorin softened his voice before he spoke again. “This is much bigger than just
two dwarves. If Fili had not been a prince – my heir, no less – we would simply
execute the rapist and call it finished. But this is far more serious than
that. This is a matter of the leadership of our people. The people need a
reliable king. Fili cannot lead them anymore. Not after what has happened.”
“You don’t give him any credit,” Kili said angrily. “He’ll get better, you’ll
see. He’s a fast healer. He’s strong, he’s so much stronger than you think.”
“Kili, you do not understand. Mating changes dwarves at the core.” He pressed a
fist to his sternum. “Your brother is not who he was anymore. Dwalin is in him
now – that monster is in – no, that monster is a part of your brother’s soul.”
“But… but – ” Kili rubbed a heavy hand against his scalp. “What if Dwalin dies?
Won’t Fili get better?”
“Some, yes.” Thorin sounded as bitterly sad as he was angry. “But not much.
There is a part of Dwalin – a large part – that will always live on in Fili.
That will be true even if Dwalin dies.”
Kili didn’t want to believe it. “How do you know that? You don’t even have a
mate.”
Thorin went quiet. “No,” he said softly. He sounded so old then. “No, I don’t.”
“Then how can you know how much mating changes a dwarf?”
“Because I know your mother,” Thorin said softly. Then he went quiet. Finally,
he said, “Mating changed her, too.”
* * * * *
Fili and Kili sat together in their bed, propped up against the pillows, taking
their meal together. Fili ate his usual honey-sweetened gruel. Kili had a plate
of sweet, juicy lamb and brown bread and diced potatoes. Kili greedily gobbled
down the tasty lamb and the buttery bread, but he left the potatoes. They
reminded him of being poor. When he’d eaten what he wanted, he watched Fili
finish his food. Fili ate slowly, as if every bite required conscious effort.
But eventually he got through the bowl. When he’d finished he regarded Kili
with an unreadable expression. Then he stole a piece of potato and popped it
into his mouth.
Kili smiled at him. He set his plate on Fili’s lap. “Here, have them.”
“No,” Fili said as chewed. Then he swallowed, gave a soft sigh, and said, “I
just wanted to taste something else for once.”
“Okay,” Kili said. He took the plate and Fili’s bowl and put them on the
bedside table. Then he looked at his brother. The meeting with Thorin came
again to his mind. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“Are you… different?”
Fili blinked slowly at him. He didn’t say anything at first. Then he asked,
“How exactly do you mean?”
Kili scratched his head. “Well, I guess I mean… do you still feel like the same
person after…” After Dwalin raped you? He wanted to kick himself. “Sorry. It
was a rude question.”
“I’m different, Kili.” Fili said flatly. He looked at the scars on his right
hand, then the ones that had destroyed the tendons in his forearm. Then he
pressed his fingers to the bones in his chest through his shirt. “Do you want
to know the truth?”
Kili was silent. Then he said, “I want to know what you want to tell me.”
When Fili spoke again, his voice was hollow.
“I belong to him now.” Fili closed his eyes. “And I like what he has made me.
There’s a reason a dwarf calls his mate his Cherished One. You come to cherish
everything about him, from how he holds you down to the pain he leaves in your
body when he’s finished. He wanted to break me. He did. He could have done
worse, and if he finds me, he will. You know what he wants to do? He wants to
cut loose the muscles at my entrance because sometimes they keep him out. He
wants to remove my limbs at the shoulders and hips so I can’t struggle. He’s
thought about knocking out all my teeth so that my mouth is easier to fuck. I
want him to do it because he wants it done.”
Fili turned to Kili and opened his eyes. They were dead.
“I want to die, Kili. Because then I’ll be his forever.”
Kili’s breath had caught in his throat. His stomach turned suddenly. He barely
got his head over the edge of the bed before his entire dinner came up in a
blood-red mess on the floor.
* * * * *
Kili sat in the study, staring slack-jawed at his uncle.
Thorin had never, not once, spoken of his nephews’ parents. Dis still lived in
Ered Luin with the rest of their people. But Erili, her mate and Kili’s father,
had died in war before Kili could remember him. He’d grown up thinking that
Thorin was one of his parents until Mother had explained the truth. But there
was more to the story than Kili had ever known. There always was, it seemed.
“Your mother had a heart as wild as you do when she was a girl,” Thorin told
him then. “But she wasn’t merry, like you are prone to be. She was sour. She
grew up full of rage.”
“That doesn’t sound like her,” Kili said immediately. Mother was good and warm
and loving, not angry in the least.
“No,” Thorin shook his head. “Not in the least. She was so rebellious as a
dwarfling, a real fighter. So much that it made her foolish. She would chase
danger to prove her courage. For years, I was terribly worried for her.”
“Why, because she was your sister?” And not your brother? But Kili left the
last part unsaid.
“No, because a wise warrior does not go out of her way to find trouble. But she
loved the thrill of war so she sought it out. She always thought she knew what
was best for her.”
Kili frowned again. He had a headache. It made it hard to concentrate. But he
tried, and as he thought about his mother, he realized then that it wasn’t so
out of the norm for her to think she knew what was best. And many times, she
did, often moreso than Thorin. She’d saved their lives and their home once by
defying his authority. She was certainly headstrong. But she wasn’t angry in
the least. She was full of life and joy and song.
Kili wished then that he’d known his father. If what Thorin said was true, the
sweetest parts of Mother, the parts that Kili had needed so much as an
emotional, troublesome dwarfling, must have come from Erili.
“Was Father gentle?” He asked Thorin. His uncle nodded.
“Very. Nothing like Dis when she was a girl.” He leaned back in his chair and
looked at the fire and went away into that old, brooding part of his mind. “You
can imagine what happened when she flowered. She disappeared. For weeks, we
couldn’t find her. We had thought the worst. But then one morning, she came
home. Just like that. She appeared out of nowhere with this ridiculous looking,
barely bearded lad. Yellow hair, too. One dwarf-man in a thousand has yellow
hair. But she’d found one. She had made him her mate before anyone could tell
her otherwise. And one day, he became your father.”
“She just… found him?”
“I don’t know. I never asked how they met. That became irrelevant after I saw
just how much good finding love had done for her. He was kind and patient, your
father. An artist and a singer with a rare look – small wonder that she chose
him. It certainly wasn’t for his strength of arms. He didn’t even know how to
wield a blade until she taught him.”
“What?” Kili hardly believed it.
“No, Erili was of common stock. He didn’t know swordplay or axework any better
than Ori. But your mother gave him strength. And he gave her gentleness. They
tempered each other – that’s love. They made each other whole.” Thorin turned
back and fixed his nephew with a steady, determined gaze. “I have never seen
love like what I saw between your parents. Your mother chose more wisely for
herself than any of her kin could have ever chosen for her. And thus, I have
never wanted to choose your mate for you.”
* * * * *
Kili and Fili hadn’t spoken to each other since Kili had thrown up the lamb. He
hadn’t been able to eat his next meal after that, either. But he’d insisted
that Fili eat his, and so Fili did. Slowly, but surely, his brother got the
food down. They had gone to sleep against each other later, neither saying a
word.
When he woke again, refreshed, Kili didn’t know what time or day it was. Fili
still slept soundly in the bed beside him. His warmth and his slow, steady
breath confirmed that he was still there in the world.
Kili got up out of the bed and pulled a chair up to the bedside. The matress
had made his limbs ache and he needed something different. Poor Fili, he
thought. He’d been fully bedridden after what Dwalin had done to him. His
injuries had all closed up by now, but the thinness still lingered.
It wasn’t so dissimilar to the state that Kili had found him in back in the
house in Laketown. Here in the infirmary, the bed was a better fit and Fili
wasn’t always asleep. But when he was sleeping, he looked just as comatose as
he had before. There had to have been something to first pull Fili out of that
darkness. But Kili was drawing a blank. He didn’t really remember having done
anything in particular before Fili had opened his eyes. It had rained and
stopped. Then he’d spent some time at the window. Then he’d gone to sleep. Then
when he had awoken the following morning, Fili’s eyes had been open.
Kili sighed and rubbed his temples. Maybe it’d be easier to find the answer if
he just stopped trying to think so hard. So he stopped thinking.
He watched his brother sleep and let his mind wander.
The first thing that struck him was Fili’s short, yellow hair. It stuck up in
funny angles around his face. That face was so different that Kili’s or
Thorin’s or Dis’s. Just as beautiful, but different. Fili didn’t have the sharp
and angular features or the black hair of most of their noble kin. His look was
earthier. Less brooding and more genuine. Only the piercing blue eyes of
Durin’s Line attested to Fili’s royal heritage. Kili’s eyes were mud-brown like
a commoner’s.
Kili had their father’s eyes, he realized then. The rest had gone to Fili.
He hadn’t ever given much thought to their long-dead father. He had never known
him, so he didn’t have reason to miss him. But now, seeing Fili, it was as if
he was watching Erili asleep there in the bed. There were suddenly so many
things that Kili wanted to say to his father. He wanted to thank his father for
making Mother happy and wanted to tell him that he was sorry he’d never had the
chance to say he loved him. He wanted to say he was sorry that Erili hadn't
lived to see his sons grow up.
But then, a part of Kili was glad that their father had already died. That
meant he’d never have to see what had happened to his eldest.
Kili tried not to think about that. Instead he focused on what had made their
father so good. It was an idealization, he knew, a figment of his mind based on
Thorin’s words and what his brother looked like. But that was okay. Kili didn’t
really need things to be true to find meaning in them. So he conjured up an
image of their father, young and handsome and as broad across the shoulders as
Fili once had been.
Erili’s eyes were big and brown and full of love for life. He wore his thick
yellow hair in pleats to pull it back from his face. He was mustachioed, like
Fili once had been. Thorin had said that Erili’s beard had been weak, but Kili
knew too well what that felt like. He gave the image of his father a voluminous
golden beard that hung in braids to his chest. Beneath it, he wore the common
clothes of the miner, or maybe of the minstrel. The latter seemed the better
fit, Kili decided then. Erili had been a bard. He’d won the heart of a princess
with his voice or maybe his fiddle, and then she’d stolen him away to keep him
safe within her soul.
Then Kili imagined that since Dis had taught him to fight, Erili must have
taught her to sing. Suddenly he realized that the song that he’d always thought
of as Mother’s might have actually been Father’s. It made sense. Erili, the
travelling bard, would have heard the bird whose tune had inspired the song.
Mother had spent too little of her life at Erebor to know it. It could not have
come from her.
He summoned the song to his mind and began to sing. As he did, he saw Fili turn
over in his sleep. Kili sang louder. This time he sang not just for himself,
but also for his brother.
When he’d finished, he crawled back into the bed. Fili stirred as Kili joined
him. He opened his eyes and yawned. Then he inhaled deeply and fixed his blue
eyes on Kili. A furrow formed between his brows.
“Were you singing?” Fili asked.
Kili nodded. “Aye.”
“Can you do it again?”
Kili smiled. Then he said, “Okay.”
* * * * *
Kili was silent for a long time after Thorin had told him about his parents. He
picked at a scab where his thumbnail had once been. The nail was growing back
rippled and ugly, but at least it was growing back.
“Fili never wanted to be with Dwalin,” he said finally. “Not in the least.”
“No,” Thorin said. “Fili did not.”
“What happens when that happens?”
“When the bond is made through force?”
Kili nodded. Thorin exhaled slowly. He turned and stared at the hearth.
“The act of rape is the exertion of ultimate power,” Thorin said. “It is
crippling. The victim comes to believe that he is helpless. And in many ways,
he is. He can feel everything through the shared soul. He can feel it in his
heart, just how powerful the rape makes his mate feel. And because the bond
between the souls grows stronger with every act, the difference in power
between the mates grows greater until… Until both their minds are poisoned by
the violence. The rapist comes to see himself as invincibly powerful. The
victim comes to view himself as nothing but” – Thorin’s voice faltered and he
swallowed heavily – “Nothing but a possession.”
Mother’s words came then to Kili’s mind. If the bond is forged in hate, you
risk your soul.
“How long?” Kili was finding it hard to keep from breaking down. “How long does
Fili have before that happens?”
“Longer, now that Dwalin can’t hurt him anymore. But the things that Dwalin did
to your brother are unheard of. Not even Easterling men do those things to
their enemies. Even if Dwalin dies, Fili will bear scars both in body and in
spirit for the rest of his life.”
“You don’t think Fili can rule anymore because of that,” Kili said. Thorin's
expression grew sadder, and Kili gave a heavy sniff. He sucked back the tears
that had welled in his eyes and sinuses. “I can’t believe that about him,
Uncle. I won’t.”
“You are not doing him a kindness by denying what he’s been through.”
“I’m not denying anything!” Kili snapped. He was suddenly and inexplicably
furious. He shot to his feet. “I just don’t think you’re giving him a chance.
Let’s get out there and kill that bastard who hurt him! Dwalin deserves death
for what he did. And you said it yourself – if he dies, his soul diminishes in
Fili! So what are we waiting for? Let’s go kill him. Please!”
Kili didn’t even realize he’d been screaming until he felt Thorin’s arms
closing around him. He collapsed into his uncle and descended into despair,
sobbing. He let it all out and Thorin pressed a hand to the back of his head,
holding him close until the sweeping pain flooded him. It seemed to fill his
body and linger heavily inside his heart. Then slowly, finally, it began to
fade. When it left, Kili felt like he’d been drained. Empty.
When Kili stopped crying, Thorin still held him close. The strong embrace of
his uncle felt so stabilizing. So comforting. But then Thorin pulled away. He
sat Kili down in his seat. Thorin returned to his side of the desk. As he went,
Kili had the awful, tragic thought that nothing good in the world was bound to
stay.
* * * * *
“Aha!” Oin stood up from where he had been bent over Fili’s right leg. He was
beaming. He looked at Fili and boomed, “Tha’ should do it, lad! Thanks to yer
brother here, ye’ll walk again.”
Kili watched his brother from his chair at the bedside. There in the bed, Fili
took up his leg with both hands and twisted it, regarding the jagged red scar
on the back of his thigh. Then he tried to straighten the leg. He stopped and
gave a sudden wince of pain.
“Fili - ” Kili started, but Fili held up his hand and cut him off.
“It’s fine,” Fili said. “Just sore.”
“Ye’ll want to keep weight off o’ that leg for some time still,” said Oin,
loudly. “Th’ strength’ll be a while in comin’ back. But in time, it’ll carry
ye.”
“Will I have full use of it?” Fili asked.
“Sorry?” Oin leaned in towards Fili with his ear trumpet.
Fili enunciated as he repeated his question.
“Oh! Ah… well.” Oin’s smile faded. He put his ear trumpet away and gave Fili a
sympathetic look. “I’m afraid ye’ll have a limp. Ye’ll probably find it hard to
run, too. Maybe in time, you’ll regain that strength, but… well, I wouldn’t
wager yer hopes on it. Sorry, lad.”
Fili was silent. He exhaled gloomily. Still, he politely said, “Thank you,
Oin.”
Oin gave Fili a pat on the shoulder. “Ye stay here a while longer if ye need
to. But ye’re free to go when ye feel ye have the strength.” Then his wrinkled
old face regained its big, toothy grin. “Welcome back, Prince.”
Then Oin took his leave, and Kili and Fili were alone again in the infirmary.
They were quiet for a while. Kili could hear the cracking of the wood in the
hearth. He wondered if that sound would ever be pleasant again. He didn’t know.
Most dwarves he’d ever known who’d been burned by fire carried the fear of it
for the rest of their lives. But then again, he’d never really felt that he was
much like most dwarves. That thought was depressing. He focused on his brother
instead.
“Fili?”
His brother turned to look at him. “Yes?”
“Do you want to try it?” Kili glanced down at his brother’s skinny leg. “See if
it works?”
Fili cleared his throat. He traced a finger over the scar and bent his leg at
the knee. He had to use his hands to help straighten it out again. Then he
looked at Kili once more. “Aye,” he said softly.
Kili felt himself smile. He rose and came around to his brother’s side of the
bed. He offered Fili his arms, but his brother shook his head. Kili got the
message, so he stood back and waited.
Fili frowned and drew in several long, deep breaths before he finally grabbed
his right leg with his left hand. With a heavy exhale, he pushed the leg out of
the bed. The limb half-flopped over the edge and was soon joined by Fili’s
other leg. Fili still had full control over the left leg and most of his body,
but because he’d been so weakened from hunger he still had to use his hands to
hoist the rest of himself to the bed’s edge.
Kili badly wanted to help his brother, but Fili wouldn’t let him. Every time
Kili made to move, Fili would hold up his hand or shake his head or give an
exasperated grunt. He was determined to stand on his own. So Kili watched him
warily. His concern began to change into a deep sense of pride as Fili planted
his bare left foot on the stone floor, placed his left hand on the edge of the
mattress and his crippled right hand on the bedside table, and gingerly pushed
himself up to his feet.
He’d done it. Fili was standing.
Kili, overjoyed, let out a peal of laughter at the sight. Too soon. The moment
Fili put any weight on his right leg, the knee buckled beneath him. Kili
swiftly caught his brother before Fili could fall to the floor.
“Ah, I’ve got you!”
Kili helped his brother back up. Fili gripped Kili’s shoulder with his left
hand, chest heaving. Kili positioned himself on Fili’s right side and wrapped
his strong arm around Fili’s waist. Then he took on Fili’s weight and drew Fili
back to his feet.
Fili bit down hard on his lip in concentration. The furrow in his brow had
deepened and he quivered slightly against Kili, but then he met Kili’s eyes and
gave him a nod.
“Ready,” Fili panted.
“Okay.”
Fili took a step with his left foot first. Then his right. He had barely
touched his toes against the chilly stone floor before he had to lean on his
brother again. Kili didn’t mind in the least. He’d never thought he’d be so
glad to see Fili staggering like this, but he was. It was so good to see Fili
back on his feet. Then they took another step. And another. And another. And
through it all, Kili couldn’t wipe the big, silly grin that he knew he wore off
his face.
They reached the end of the infirmary. By now Fili was breathing heavily. A
thin layer of sweat had beaded up upon his brow. But he touched his hand to the
wall. Then he closed his eyes.
“You did it,” Kili said softly, proudly. “You did it, Fi.”
“It’s nineteen steps, Kili.” Fili whispered. “Not that far.”
“That’s okay,” Kili said. “You’re walking.” He glanced back over his shoulder
at the bed behind them. “Let’s do another nineteen and call it a day, aye?”
Fili breathed heavily through his nostrils. Then he drew his lip up into his
mouth. He nodded his head, giving his assent.
They started back towards the bed. When they got there, Fili let Kili half lift
him back onto the mattress. Kili propped Fili up against a bunch of pillows at
the headboard. He made to arrange the blankets on top on his brother, but Fili
shook his head weakly.
“No,” he whispered hoarsely. “It’s okay. Could I please have some water?”
“Of course.”
Kili squeezed his brother’s shoulder and got up to get him a mug from the basin
at the other end of the room. When he returned, he handed the cup to his
brother and sat upon the foot of the bed as he watched Fili drink. When he
finished, Fili let out a low, satisfied sigh and dropped his head back against
the headboard. He closed his eyes. Then he opened them again and looked at
Kili.
“That was fun,” said Fili. The corners of his mouth turned up in the hint of a
smile.
Kili couldn’t help the laugh that tumbled out of him then. He fell back against
the bed and descended into a fit of near-hysteria. It was so good to see Fili
smile. He hadn’t known how much he’d needed to see that. But now that he had,
he was so full of joy that he didn’t know what to do except to keep on
laughing. He laughed until he was nearly crying. And then he was crying. But
this time, they were tears of gladness.
At last, his laughter died down. Then eventually, it stopped. The infirmary was
quiet afterwards except for the soft crackle of the fire in the hearth. Kili
didn’t mind it now. Not even that sound could disturb this precious moment.
Kili turned his head and looked over at his brother. Fili was watching him
calmly. He still had that little smile on his face. He looked tired, but
content. Though Fili didn’t say anything, Kili imagined what he was thinking.
In Kili’s mind, Fili said, Things are going to get better. You’ll see, baby
brother. I’ll be fine.
Kili had never been gladder for the reassurance.
* * * * *
The king and his prince sat across from one another on either side of the desk.
That meeting had seemed to stretch on for hours. Thorin had resumed his
authoritative posture. He’d interlaced his fingers and spread his elbows out on
the heartwood desktop, looking big and broad and regal in the firelight.
“Kili,” Thorin quietly addressed his nephew. “You are not going to like what I
must tell you next.”
The conversation in Laketown came back to Kili then. Thorin had never actually
released him from that burden. “You’re disinheriting Fili,” he said sadly.
Thorin frowned at him. “You don’t need to say it that way.”
“But that’s what you’re doing,” said Kili stubbornly. “Isn’t it?”
Thorin sighed wearily. He didn’t appear to be any happier about his decision
than Kili was. “Your brother will always be a prince of Durin’s Line. But the
weight of the crown would kill him. I stand by my decision to rename you as my
heir.”
“What about my crime? Dwarves won’t accept a criminal for their king.”
“What crime?” Thorin frowned in confusion. Then it seemed to dawn on him.
“Attacking Dwalin? That makes you a hero, given the circumstances. Dwarves
would be proud of their king for that. You were defending your brother. There
is tremendous glory in defending the honor of your kin.”
Kili’s heart sank at his uncle's words. Everything that Thorin said made Fili
sound so powerless. But by now, Kili was out of counters. He no longer knew
what to say. He didn’t even know what to think anymore. He had nothing to lean
on now but his hope that Fili might get better. There was nothing beyond blind
hope to support his belief that even now, after everything that had happened,
Fili would still make the better king. But even if he could have put that into
words, Thorin wouldn’t have listened. In all his long years, the King of
Durin’s Folk had seen too much death and despair to trust in hopeful feelings
without a shred of proof.
There was no proof that Fili would truly get better. If anything, the odds were
stacked against him. That felt like a knife in Kili’s heart. He couldn’t
imagine a life without Fili as he once had been. That would be a life without
someone to look up to, someone who loved him despite his youth and his
foolishness. A life without Fili hardly seemed like a life worth living.
“I love Fili,” Kili said. “I can’t hurt him by stealing his crown.”
“My boy,” Thorin whispered. He shook his head ruefully. “My poor boy. You are
as big-hearted and compassionate as your father. But compassion is what got
your father killed.”
Kili’s tears welled up again. He didn’t know what Thorin meant about Erili, but
that didn’t really matter anyways. Thorin was wrong if he thought that
compassion was a weakness.
“I wish you could see things differently, uncle. Things really could be
different if you just wanted them to be.”
“I’m sorry, Kili,” said Thorin. “Things do not change. Even as we speak, there
is war brewing on our doorstep. Nearly every king of Durin’s line has fallen in
battle. We are dwarves. We live to die at war. Fili will never again be capable
of leading a host in battle. And as king, one day he would need to.”
Kili bowed his head. There was some truth to what Thorin said. Fili was
crippled for life. As a warrior, that was a death sentence. But Fili wasn’t
helpless, or at least, he didn’t have to be. Though he’d been reared to be a
fighter, his true strength was in his mind. He was observant and clever and
able to see beyond the obvious in a way that most dwarves weren’t. Maybe if
Dwalin died and maybe if Fili could recover his mind and maybe if dwarves could
learn to be less warlike, maybe Fili would still be a king worthy of the songs.
But there were a lot of maybes in that future. It seemed so much easier to just
accept that Thorin was right. Maybe the future really was just war. After all,
for dwarves it always had been. Fili and Kili had been reared to be princes of
battle. And though Fili had once been a capable and versatile warrior, it was
Kili who had always been the stronger swordsman.
When Thorin spoke again, it was as if he’d read Kili’s thoughts. “You are a
fierce and brilliant fighter, Kili. Your heart and your passion would make you
a leader, too, if you trained yourself right. You could inspire your people.
They would follow you anywhere.”
Truth again, Kili thought. But hardly reassuring. He was indeed good in battle
when he let his passion take over. His heart was big, too. There was enough of
it for bloodshed as well as for laughter and song. That was especially the case
when he thought he was defending the helpless. He’d done it for Bilbo once. But
now, Thorin was asking him to do it for Fili, too. He just couldn’t bring
himself to see Fili as powerless. On that, he would not budge. But he was out
of arguments to support that position. He had no choice but to take a risk. So
he drew in a deep breath, looked his uncle in the eye, and openly defied his
king’s wishes.
“I don’t want your crown,” Kili said. Hearing it in his own words bolstered his
resolve. “There. I said it. Choose someone else.”
At that, Thorin leaned back from the desk. “Your certainty in your decisions
will help make you a good king. But this is a decision that is beyond your
control.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Besides, it’s done in all but
ceremony.”
“What!?”
“Dain knows already. And I’ve written to your mother.”
“No!” Kili howled.
“It’s done, Kili!”
Kili had heard enough. He slammed his big fists on the desk and heard something
crack in the wood. Then he shot to his feet and stormed to the door. He threw
it open and shoved Gloin out of the way and took off running for the infirmary.
When he burst into the infirmary he ran to Fili’s bed and threw himself down
beside his sleeping brother. He pulled Fili close and wrapped him in his arms
and tried his hardest not to crush Fili’s bone-thin body with his stupid
strength. He wanted to give it all back, to throw away the crown that was not
his to wear, to return it to its rightful inheritor. This was the one who
should have been king all along.
“I’m so sorry!” He sobbed against Fili. “I’m sorry. Brother, please forgive
me!”
He desperately wanted Fili to wake up. He needed to tell him everything, from
Thorin’s betrayal to how much Kili didn’t want it, any of it. He just wanted
everything to go back to the way it was, to when they were younger and freer.
There had been a time once when they had been happy. There had been a time,
countless times, when they had hunted together and sang in harmony after the
kill. Or another time, they’d thrown plates through Bag End after eating poor
Bilbo out of house and home. Even that time, when they’d pitched stones into
the water at Rivendell, was happier than this. That was the last time when they
had been happy together.
Kili would have given anything to go back to that night just then. He could
have stopped it all from happening. He could have taken Fili away before Dwalin
had had the chance to destroy him.
But he, Kili, had left his brother alone.
He would never leave Fili alone in the night again.
“Fili,” Kili whispered. He pressed a kiss to the short hair above Fili’s ear.
Fili stirred a little at the touch. “I’m so sorry I abandoned you to him. But
you can fight him. I believe in you. You are stronger than anyone I know or
anyone else gives you credit for. I need you to fight him, brother. You can do
this.”
Fili didn’t wake as Kili spoke to him. He woudn’t wake until his body let him,
Kili knew. And that could be a while. But that was okay, Kili thought. Fili
didn’t need to wake just yet. For now, he just needed to heal. So Kili dried
his eyes. He pulled himself up out of the bed and made to leave. But at the
infirmary door, he looked back over his shoulder at his brother.
Fili slept curled on his side with his knees drawn up to his chest. He looked
small, so much smaller than he really was. It was so easy to see smaller people
as weak.
That was an illusion, Kili realized. Smoke and mirrors. A carefully crafted lie
meant to trick the smartest of them all. He gasped as everything suddenly
clicked into place. Everyone had been tricked by what had happened to Fili’s
body. Everyone saw him as weak because that was what made sense. Because he’d
been broken in body, it was so easy to see him as broken in spirit, especially
since their kind showed spirit through strength of the physical form. But that
was a trick because it made perfect sense. Sometimes, what made sense led
people into early graves. Thorin was already there. So too, right now, was
Fili. Their brilliant minds had led them into traps, and now they justified
their places in their traps by running circles in their heads.
Kili wasn’t as smart as they were. He couldn’t have thought up the arguments
that kept them stuck in their tombs. He thought with his heart instead. And
what Kili knew in his heart to be true was this: Fili had once been strong, so
he could be strong again. The future was never set in stone, as much as Thorin
believed it to be. That meant that there was hope. There was also hope because
Fili was alive. If Fili was alive, he could get out of the grave. He could be
taught to think with a little heart instead of just mind, and that would help
him climb out of the pit where Dwalin had kept him for months.
Thorin had always thought that Kili’s heart was too big for one person. But
now, as he looked at his good and noble brother, Kili smiled to himself. He
knew that Thorin was wrong. Thorin was wrong about Fili, and he was wrong about
Kili too. Fili could still be a good king if he was just given the chance. And
though Kili couldn’t give Fili that chance right now, he knew that one day he
could. He didn’t need to rule Erebor on his own. Thorin was proof that the
burden of the crown was too much for a single person. And like Kili’s big
heart, which was sometimes such a burden, the leadership of a kingdom was big
enough to share.
* * * * *
A single week had passed since Fili had awoken when Oin had suddenly appeared
in Thorin’s study. He’d barged in uninvited on one of Thorin and Kili’s
grueling strategy lessons, interrupting them to inform his king that Fili had
stopped eating. As one, Thorin and Kili had shot to their feet. They had taken
off together from Thorin’s chambers down the halls, racing for the infirmary.
When they had burst into the room, Thorin had stormed up to Fili’s bed and
shaken him hard. Kili had watched in alarm as his brother recoiled in fear.
Then when Thorin had realized how harsh he’d been, he’d grown tender and pulled
Fili into an embrace. Kili hadn’t known what to do. He had just sat beside them
on the bed and watched, feeling helpless.
Eventually Fili seemed to notice his presence there. “Ki…”
“Fili, eat something,” was all that Kili could think to say. He gently picked
up Fili’s scarred left hand and felt the tears come back to his eyes. He cried
so much these days. “Please?”
When Fili shook his head, Kili looked at Thorin for guidance. The look in
Thorin’s eyes confirmed what Kili thought he was thinking. Dwalin’s grip on
Fili was pushing him into death. Thorin slammed his fist against the headboard
in despair. Fili flinched. Then Thorin took out his fury at Dwalin by berating
Fili.
Then Fili fought back. Kili had never seen Fili challenge Thorin. Now he
watched in stunned silence as Fili ripped into Thorin for his part in what had
happened. And when Fili confessed that he’d wanted Thorin all along, Kili was
as shocked as their uncle. At Fili’s revelation, Thorin broke down. He said
he’d been the fool. Then he began to weep against Fili’s shoulder.
Kili realized then that the entire time, they’d loved each other in a way that
he couldn’t yet understand. It had been more than the love between an uncle and
his nephew, more than the love between a king and his worthier heir. It had
been the love between matching souls. It was the love of Dis and Erili. It was
the life-sustaining love that they all knew Fili would never have again.
Something had broken inside of Kili at that thought. His sadness only grew as
he watched them from what felt like a million miles away. Fili had pulled
Thorin into his arms. Then they’d shared a kiss. Thorin confessed his love and
gave himself to his nephew, then kissed him once again to seal his words. But
Fili had pulled away from the one he’d loved all along.
“I can’t. I’m his.”
With those fateful words, Fili put the last of his love for Thorin to death.
Then when Fili and Thorin had embraced again, it was without grace, or
tenderness, or true compassion at all. It was a cold and distant expression of
love between unequals. It was the paternalistic love from a superior to his
lesser. It was the love between an uncle and his forever-fragile nephew. It was
the love between a king and his no longer worthy heir.
That wasn’t even love at all, Kili had realized then. That was pity.
It hurt, watching that. Kili knew that his brother needed more than what their
uncle could give him. Fili would never relearn his strength from Thorin
Oakenshield if Thorin Oakenshield was determined to pity him. Fili needed
someone to believe that he was as strong as he was. He needed someone to
believe that he could get better, that he would get better, especially because
he didn’t seem to believe it himself. Fili seemed so sad. He seemed so very
close to just giving it all up.
Kili realized then that if Fili found out he’d been stripped of his inheritance
before he remembered his quality, the knowledge of it would finish him. He
swore not to let that happen. He swore to keep his big mouth shut at least
until Fili was better. And he swore not to leave his brother’s side until Fili
knew his own strength.
So when Fili had finally asked if he could be alone again, Kili refused to
leave.
“I’m gonna stay here,” he’d said.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to leave you alone.” Then Kili thought on how Fili might
take those words. So he’d rephrased the statement. “I don’t want to be alone,
Fi.”
It took him some time, but eventually Fili had acquiesced to letting his
brother stay. When Fili had nodded his head, Kili couldn’t have suppressed the
grin that he’d felt spread over his features. He’d rubbed his big hand through
Fili’s goofy-looking hair to make it stand on end. Then he had climbed into the
bed beside his brother, carefully so as not injure him.
* * * * *
Kili stayed by Fili’s side until his brother could get out of bed. By that
point, Kili had lost track of how many days had passed. That hardly mattered
anymore. Fili could have taken as long as he needed. Kili didn’t really mind.
He knew that they would have to leave the infirmary eventually, but he was
going to let Fili take his own pace in that. He didn't expect it to happen as
quickly as it did. So when Fili suddenly turned to his brother, ready to move
on, Kili had been taken off guard.
“I don’t want to be here anymore.”
Kili frowned, puzzled. “Erebor?”
“The infirmary.”
“Oh.” Of course. Kili gave Fili a grin. “Want to go for a walk?”
Fili was silent for a moment. Then he said, “Okay.”
“Okay.”
Kili hopped up out of the bed as his brother swung his legs out over the edge.
Fili braced himself with one hand on the bedside table and the other on Kili’s
outstretched arm. He put his weight on his left leg and stood, then gingerly
shifted some weight onto his right. The bad leg shook and Fili’s brow furrowed
in concentration, but with Kili there to help him, eventually Fili stabilized.
Fili gave Kili a nod. Slowly, they made for the door. Then they left the
infirmary behind them.
Out in the hall beyond, Fili’s eyes went wide as he saw the splendor of Erebor.
Kili watched his brother’s wonder.
“This is home?” Fili asked softly. “It’s huge.”
“I know,” Kili said. He smiled at his brother’s expression and swelled with
pride at the glories of their heritage. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
Fili said nothing. He just looked around in awe as they started down the hall.
They moved slowly through the kingdom until they came at last to the royal
apartments. The distance hadn’t been trivial, but Fili had insisted on walking
each and every step of the way. By the time they reached the lavish hall where
Thorin and Kili had taken up their chambers, Fili was shaking and breathless.
Kili unlocked the door to his apartment and brought his brother into the
sitting room. Fili looked around at the high ceilings and the sweeping stone
arches in the walls. A few gilded sofas with plush velvet cushions sat around
an ornate central carpet whose geometric designs were woven with strands of
gold. The furniture faced a carved stone hearth which Kili had not yet used.
Without the warmth of a fire, the room was chilly, and the only light was that
from the colored glass lanterns that hung from the ceiling. The lanterns cast
their hues in angular patterns around the high walls of the sitting room. The
intricate play of the light was a testament to the incredible attention to
detail found only in dwarvish design.
“Is this your room?” asked Fili.
“Aye,” Kili nodded. He led Fili to a sofa and helped him sit. Fili breathed
deeply, exhausted from the walk. Kili helped him prop his leg up and then
pulled up a comfortably cushioned armchair. He plopped down in it. “You should
see Thorin’s. It’s even nicer.”
Fili didn’t say anything. The furrow in his brow deepened a little and he
stared off at something in the distance over Kili’s shoulder. Kili frowned and
turned to look, but saw nothing there, nothing except the gilded tapestry on
the wall. He turned back to his brother.
“You all right?”
Fili gave a small start. Then he raised his eyebrows and shrugged his
shoulders. “I suppose I’m just tired,” he said. He furrowed his brow again and
traced a finger over the embossed knotwork on a velvet sofa cushion. “It’s all
so different from how we grew up. So grand.”
Kili didn’t know what to say to that. He liked the splendor. It seemed like one
of the only good things that came with the promise of the throne. But he didn’t
say that to Fili.
“There’s a small study through there,” Kili said as he pointed to a heavy oak
door to his left. He then nodded to the door on his right. “There’s the
bedroom. You can stay with me for as long as you want. We can take our meals
with Thorin.” When Kili saw the subtle change in Fili’s expression, he quickly
added, “Or with someone else, if you like.”
“No, it’s okay,” Fili said. “I’ll have to face Thorin eventually.”
Something about the edge in Fili’s voice just then made the hairs on the back
of Kili’s neck stand up. “Fili,” he said slowly, “Is Dwalin awake in you right
now?”
After a long moment of silence, Fili said, “He’s awake.”
“Does he see what you see?”
“Yes.”
“What is he thinking?”
Fili’s eyes drifted back to the tapestry. They glittered almost greedily. “He
thinks this is a beautiful room. He’s wondering what Thorin’s chambers looks
like.”
“Fili?”
“Kili.”
“I’m sorry this happened to you.”
Fili opened his eyes again and traced his finger once more over the velvet
cushion. “I’m tired, Kili,” he said.
From the subtle change in the timbre of Fili’s voice, he might as well have
said, I’m not sorry.
Kili felt his heart aching again. Still, he forced himself up out of the chair
and made to help his brother up off the sofa. But Fili held up a scarred hand
and stopped him.
“No,” Fili snapped suddenly. “Don’t you touch me.”
“All right,” Kili whispered. The words hurt, and he had to remind himself that
this wasn’t Fili right now.
He returned to his chair and watched as Fili’s eyes drifted closed. Time
passed. The lines in Fili’s face smoothed out. His breathing grew deep and
even. Then Kili watched his brother sleep and ruminated on what Thorin had told
him about the joining of souls.
Fili had changed indeed. When Dwalin slept inside him, Fili was withdrawn and
quiet, but still kind, and not entirely unlike the brother Kili had once known.
But when Dwalin was awake, Kili felt evil exuding from Fili’s presence. In
those times, he was full of hatred and self-loathing and a near-obsessive
desire to tear himself to pieces if it would please his mate. But the energy
was also cruel to others, meanspirited and nasty. Fili had never, ever been
like that. But not everyone knew Fili as well as Kili did.
It occurred to Kili then that if his brother was given power while Dwalin still
contolled him, there was no telling what Dwalin would do through Fili’s body.
He finally saw the only justifiable reason behind disinheriting Fili. And now,
at least for the time being, Kili agreed with his uncle’s decision. Thorin
viewed Fili as weak, but that wasn’t the real reason why it was dangerous to
let Fili take the throne. It was because Dwalin was a monster. Dwalin took sick
pleasure in torturing Fili and other people. He had enjoyed hurting Kili once,
too. There was no telling what he might do to his subjects as king. If Fili
took the throne like this, Dwalin would have the throne.
Because Dwalin still lived, he was able to see and know and perceive through
Fili’s eyes. And the bond only grew stronger with time. Sooner or later,
Dwalin’s powerful and power-hungry soul would beat what was left of Fili into
submission. Then he’d take over Fili’s body entirely and do Mahal knows what
with it.
If Fili was allowed to take the throne while Dwalin still was in him, Dwalin
would become king though Fili’s flesh. And Dwalin was insane. As king, he would
be a tyrant, but he would act through Fili’s body. But it would be good and
gentle Fili, not Dwalin, who would bear the burden of history’s judgment. That
was about Fili, Kili decided. It had nothing to do with Erebor anymore. Kili
could not let his brother go down in the books of legend as a violent,
ravenous, and brutal king of their already less-than-liked people. And that was
the only way that Kili could bring himself to agree with Thorin’s decision.
He still didn’t like it, though. There had to be another answer.
There was always another answer, Kili knew in his heart. But now he knew it in
his mind. The mind and all its brilliance always led back to death. There, in
death, Kili found what he was looking for. It occurred to him then that death
was the limit to everything, even that which was evil. Even wickedness had to
die sooner or later. And if Dwalin died, it meant that Fili would live. Only by
denying Dwalin his future did Fili have a chance to reclaim his life.
It was suddenly paramount that Fili not know anything until he was free of
Dwalin. If Dwalin knew that Fili was no longer in line for the throne, he would
kill him and take his soul for all of time. But if Dwalin lived on in exile as
he did now, Fili would spend years of his life under Dwalin’s thumb. Dwalin was
older, but he wasn’t that old. By the time he died of age, his influence on
Fili’s soul would have warped what was left of Fili beyond recognition.
There was only one hope that Fili had left. Dwalin had to die.
If Dwalin died, Fili would find the strength to take back the soul that was
his. He would be changed, perhaps, but not irreparably so. Fili was a fighter.
He would force himself to become strong again. He’d fight to regain his
dignity, and one day through the might of his mind, Fili would prove his
worthiness to be a good and decent king. And all it would take was the death of
one bad dwarf.
Kili felt himself smile with sudden bloodlust. He had a big heart, he knew. It
was too much heart at times. But he didn’t need to give up any part of it for
this. It wasn’t just the heartless who could relish the taste of murder.
***** Chapter 26 *****
Chapter Notes
     Please be advised that this chapter contains extremely graphic
     depictions of war-related violence, attempted suicide, incest, and
     rape.* This chapter is darker than any of the preceding chapters.
     Please consider yourself duly and totally warned.
     * I did not set out to ever write explicit incest into this story.
     That was never the intent. However, it was called to my attention
     that this story needs an incest tag due, presumably, to either the
     romantic, non-sexual relationship between Thorin and Fili, the
     platonic, non-sexual relationship between Kili and Fili, or both.
     Thanks to the attentiveness of my readers, I have added the incest
     tag and made the subject matter appropriate for such a tag. I have
     additionally added a suicide attempt tag for the material that was
     originally intended to be the subject of this chapter.
After leaving the infirmary, Fili began the long, slow uphill battle of
recovery. Through it all, Kili was there at his side. And Dwalin was always in
him.
Months ago, before this all had happened, Fili had thought he’d been so smart
in knowing that he’d never be alone again. He didn’t think he was so smart now
because he had been wrong. Nothing felt more lonesome than having Kili beside
him and Dwalin within him, but knowing that only he, Fili, could lift himself
out of the void.
He had help and hindrance in the form of his constant companions. Kili wanted
to help him. Thank Mahal for Kili. All that Kili wanted was to see his brother
whole. Even in those times when Fili lost control of the monster inside him,
hurling Dwalin’s cruel and scathing words at Kili to push him away, Kili stayed
with him. Kili had learned his lesson. He refused to leave Fili alone with
Dwalin again.
That was because Dwalin had tried to kill him. Dwalin wanted nothing more than
to push Fili back into the darkness he had so weakly crawled his way out of.
There in the black, Fili was completely and utterly powerless. When Fili had
been in the void, everything about him belonged entirely to Dwalin. From his
body to his mind to his soul. The monster had eaten him once. But Kili had
breathed life into Fili’s broken bones, and now that Fili grasped tenuously to
a future, Kili was determined not to let Dwalin pull his brother back into the
grave.
When Dwalin succeeded, if he succeeded, he would never let Fili out again.
So Fili tried to fight him. It was so hard. It was like trying to defy a
thunderstorm while standing out in its chaos. The best defense against a raging
storm was good shelter, but Fili didn’t have a shelter anymore. The fortress he
had built to defend himself had crumbled. He tried to rebuild it, but he no
longer had the strength. That wall had been both a refuge and a place to
sequester his feelings. But now that it was gone, he had no choice but to stand
in the rain. He had to ride it out as his emotions returned to him, growing
into his ruined fortress.
Like weeds between the cracks.
Fili hated weeds. He was a dwarf. His kind hated those green, organic things
because they were a sign of decay. Dwarfs lived in stone. Dwarves had been made
from stone. Weeds that grew into their mountain halls were a sign of change and
the death of the rock. And so Fili tried to stomp out the weeds as they grew.
But there were too many, and they grew back quicker than he could kill them.
Nature, it seemed, was vengeful after being subdued for so long. The weeds and
saplings and vines grew thick and quickly into the ruin of his castle. Soon
they consumed the rubble of his wall. Then they grew up to surround him,
oppressive like the forest of Mirkwood. When he was enclosed in the undulating
green-black emotion, he could barely see the grey of the sky beyond the canopy.
This was feeling again.
Fili despised it.
* * * * *
On the first day, he hid from his returning emotions by forcing himself to
march. One foot in front of the other. He wanted to walk through all the halls
of their kingdom, but Erebor was massive, and he was a cripple. They didn’t get
very far beyond the royal apartments.
For the most part, Kili let Fili choose their path, but there were some halls
that Kili suggested they avoid.
“Closed off still, due to the dragon,” Kili explained.
Fili had the distinct sense that there was another reason, but he let it go. He
was home now. He could always explore them in the future.
It took a long time with his bad leg and weakened constitution. Yet Kili was
right there by Fili’s side through every step of the way. Kili helped take his
weight off the right knee and helped Fili as much as he needed, and even though
it sapped Fili’s strength and swiftly left him exhausted, the walk truly did
him good.
Fili slept soundly that night, cradled by the sunlight.
The second day out of the infirmary, Fili and Kili went down into the treasury.
There the company was still looking for the Arkenstone, growing more frustrated
each day. But when they saw their prince, their broken and healing heir, they
all stopped their search. They came to him and gave him the warmest of
courtesies. They spoke kindly to Fili and gently clapped him on the back. Bofur
gave him a near-crushing hug and scooped him up off his feet, laughing. Then,
as if remembering Fili’s frailty, Bofur gently brought Fili back down to lean
against his brother. He was still smiling, though. His friend was back from the
dead.
It should have all been reassuring, Fili thought when they left. But as he and
Kili returned to the apartments, Fili realized that the entire company, his own
people who he would one day rule, now knew the truth. They all knew that he had
been raped. They all knew he’d been forced into servitude. And they all knew
that he hadn’t been able to get himself free from oppression without the help
of his baby brother.
The shame of that was one of the worst things that Fili had ever known.
By the third day, the humiliation had taken root inside him. Overnight it had
grown into a massive coil of reeking weeds in the forest of his mind. He pulled
at the vines in his head, but his hands were half useless. The vines were thick
like tree branches, and he couldn’t get through his new leafy, wooden cage to
reach the sunlight beyond. He had no choice. He’d have to wait for the weeds to
die.
That day he just stayed in bed. He just didn’t have the spirit for anything
else. Not today. Kili sat with him throughout the day and told him happy
stories, but Fili didn’t listen. He barely heard Kili at all. Kili’s cheery
babbling sounded hollow in Fili’s ears. He then had the thought that no matter
how brightly the sun shone, there were parts of Middle Earth that no light
could ever touch.
Sometime during that day, they received a visit from Thorin. When his uncle
walked into the boys’ bedroom, it was like Thorin had taken his big elvish
sword and had cut a path through the forest. He found Fili in his little green
cage and extended a hand to him. Fili took it. He let his uncle guide him back
onto the forest path. Here, he could see the sky. But the sky was grey, not
blue.
“It does me well to see you out and about,” Thorin said to Fili, smiling
faintly. “Tell me, what do you think of our homeland? Isn’t it magnificent?”
Fili sighed. He didn’t think so. The splendor of Erebor was the heart of the
reason why he was no longer whole. But he loved Thorin, and he knew what Thorin
loved, so he simply said, “It is.”
They didn’t say much else to each other past that. Thorin looked exhausted,
Fili thought. That made two of them. Eventually Thorin stifled a yawn and Fili
asked to be left alone again. He just wanted to sleep. Thorin agreed, but
before he left he pressed his forehead to Fili’s.
As he did so, the act of tenderness and the peace that came with it soon
curdled into something sour. The beast had awoken within Fili.
As Dwalin came into consciousness, at first he was confused. Then he was
jealous. Finally, he was furious. The ominous black clouds came back to settle
over the trees. As Thorin left the bedroom, the rain and thunder began. Dwalin
started degrading Fili though the fusion of their souls. He called him names
and brutalized him through the bond for still daring to touch his uncle. Dwalin
said he was a liar and a whore and he told Fili all the gruesome things he
would do to him when he found him.
Fili curled up under the covers and pressed his hands to his ears. It only
served to drown out his brother’s voice. Fili realized that he couldn’t block
out the storm because the storm was inside of him. Any defenses he tried to put
up now just shut out the last of the sun. He thought of the Balrog and himself
as a lonely survivor, locked in Dwarrowdelf. There in the dark, he was
defenseless, and was now at the mercy of a demon.
Throughout the day, Dwalin told him things – so many cruel, sadistic things.
Not even Dwalin took much pleasure in saying them. The things Dwalin told him
made Fili feel worthless, like a traitor of the worst kind. It was brutally
painful, worse than not feeling. He wanted to stop the pain, but he couldn’t.
As the hours wore on, he grew increasingly desperate. He tried to get back to
the void. But he was too far out of his comfortable numbness to easily get back
there.
It got so bad over the course of the day that Fili retreated entirely into his
mind. There, he sank to the earth in the blackness of the stormy forest. He
buried his head in his hands as the rain soaked his weak and broken body to the
bone. In the dark with any protection from the storm, he couldn’t see a path
out of the woods. He came to the crushing realization that he was never going
to escape this place. This was his life now. This would be his world for the
rest of his days.
He wanted out. He needed out.
On the fourth day, he wound up back in the infirmary after he’d sliced his
wrists.
* * * * *
In the months that they had been mated, Fili had never been very good at
fighting off Dwalin’s advances. Sometimes it was just easier to do what Dwalin
told him to do than to resist. Sometimes it was just easier to let Dwalin take
over for a while. But when he did that, he lost so much progress. It seemed
like going one step forward only to slip ten steps back.
It had been bad before because giving up meant staying in the void. It was
worse now because he knew that the void was the grave, but still, he wanted to
be there. A part of him wanted nothing more than to give in to Dwalin’s urgings
to go back there for eternity. Another part, however, still feared to die. That
part didn’t want to be a rare dwarvish victim of suicide.
But Dwalin wanted Fili to kill himself. He wanted it more than anything.
It hurt so badly, wanting to die. Fili hated the feeling. It seemed a paradox
to him.
How is it, Fili asked himself, that the only way to keep from wanting to die is
to actually die?
It doesn’t matter, m’love, Dwalin reassured him. In death, there is no more
pain. In death, you will be free.
After so many times that Dwalin had turned out right, it didn’t really seem
like this should be any different. And it was true, the world of the dead had
been better than the forest of nightmares. So Fili gave in to his mate’s gentle
urgings, and on the fourth day, he tried to kill himself.
That evening at dinner, he managed to steal Kili’s knife from the table when no
one was looking. He hid it under his clothing until they returned to their
shared apartment. Then when Kili stepped out for a moment, Fili slipped away,
alone, into the study.
There he slit open his forearms in an attempt to bleed to death.
* * * * *
Kili hadn’t been away from the apartment for very long. He’d only gone to the
privy, gone five minutes perhaps. But when he returned to find his brother in
the study, bleeding profusely from self-inflicted wounds, Kili screamed in
despair. He swiftly staunched the bleeding with his coat before Fili could
drain out. Then he scooped his featherweight brother up into his arms and ran
for the infirmary.
Through it, Fili didn’t fight him. He acted like he was dead already.
* * * * *
There in the infirmary, Oin gave Fili a pain-numbing potion before he stitched
up the wounds in his arms. The potion slowed him down in both mind and body.
Again, Kili had to carry him as they returned to the apartment.
There in the sitting room, Thorin was waiting for them. He paced at first in
silence. Then he berated Fili for his selfishness.
Fili was confused. Didn’t Thorin understand? It wasn’t that Fili was selfish.
He just didn’t want to hurt anymore. Besides, didn’t Thorin know how much of a
burden Fili was now? Apparently he didn’t, for when Fili said as much, Thorin’s
eyes teared up again. Then he stormed out, unable to see the truth.
There weren’t knives at the table after that.
* * * * *
Dwalin didn’t give up his quest to murder his mate. After the failure with the
knife, he tried another tactic.
Starvation had almost worked before, Fili remembered. But now, with Kili by
Fili’s side at every meal, it was impossible not to eat. So Fili ate. Then he
threw it all up. After meals, he snuck away into the privy to empty his
stomach. He’d put on a little weight, so the death wouldn’t be immediate, but
he was still relieved, for he had started seeing an effect after only a few
days of the act. Kili also noticed the thinning. Now, his little brother
wouldn’t even let him use the toilet alone.
Finally, Fili tried drinking ink from the desk in the study. He also swallowed
all the oil from the lamps in the apartment. It didn’t work at all. The oil ran
through him and kept him in the privy all afternoon, miserable and humiliated
by his brother’s constant presence.
When they finally got back to the apartment, Kili took the cushions off the
sofas and threw them onto the floor. Then he sat Fili down upon them. Fili
watched his brother as Kili stripped the apartment of anything remotely
harmful. The fire poker, the sofa frames, the desk and all its contents. At
some point, Kili called in Gloin and Thorin. Thorin sat in silence beside Fili
as Gloin and Kili disappeared into the bedroom. They broke apart the huge,
beautiful canopy bed and brought the frame out in pieces. Then they took out
the armoire, the ornate dressing table, and the arm chairs. Finally, they took
out every last piece of artwork except the hanging lanterns in the sitting
room. Those were too far out of reach to be a danger. By the time they had
finished, the apartment was empty but for some cushions, a few blankets, and a
pile of simple, unadorned clothing.
“Fili,” Thorin said after everything. “I wish you wouldn’t do this to
yourself.”
“It’s him,” Fili whispered. “I can’t stop him. He wants me.”
Thorin gave a sharp sniff. “I know.”
* * * * *
Fili lay on the mattress on the floor beside his sleeping brother. Kili was
usually the one who had trouble sleeping through the night. But this time, Fili
had been awoken by the insistent urging of his mate.
Fili listened in on Dwalin’s emotions. He tried to get a sense of where Dwalin
was. He was nearby still, probably somewhere on the mountain slopes. He’d eaten
his nighttime meal. Now he was bored.
Since the stripping of the apartment, there was no longer any way for Fili to
try to kill himself. It frustrated Dwalin, being denied control like that. I’m
sorry, beloved, Fili thought. He knew how uncomfortable it felt for dwarves
like Dwalin to be denied control. Through the mating bond, Fili felt Dwalin’s
discomfort. Dwalin didn’t like the feeling of disempowerment any more than Fili
once had himself.
Things were different now. Fili didn’t hate being so powerless anymore. He
wasn’t quite sure how things had gotten this way, but now that he thought about
it, he realized that he’d grown accustomed to being the weaker half of an
intimate pair. He didn’t know how exactly that had happened. He knew why – that
was easy enough. Dwalin had decided that it would be that way, and so he had
taken Fili’s future by force. But how Fili, once so strong and independent, had
come to view himself as Dwalin’s inferior was another question entirely.
Perhaps it had been the life-changing, soul-fusing experience in Rivendell. Or
perhaps it had been the little war that Fili and Dwalin had waged for the first
two weeks. During that time, Dwalin had beaten and molested Fili at a whim in
order to crush his will. Or maybe it had been the betrayal by Fili’s own body
in the form of the heat. That final step into adulthood had been an incidence
of rape all over again. But by that time, the bond had already been formed.
Fili's heat had been the finishing temper on a blade, and it had sealed his
sexual preferences with the permanence inherent to their kind.
Since that night, during sex, Fili had liked to be controlled. He still liked
it. He liked to be brutalized. He liked the impossible idea of his body being
broken again and again until he’d been reduced to mush. He didn’t just like it.
He got off on it. It was the only way he could.
Sex had been one of the few ways that Fili, as an adult, had experienced
worldly pleasure. Dwalin had denied him everything else, from weed to extra ale
to friendship with others. Fili had also denied himself even the simplest of
joys, minimizing any pleasure for Dwalin to take through the bond. And so sex
had been become one of the few enjoyable things for Fili. Even now, after he’d
been crippled by it, he still admitted that the sex really did feel good. He
and Dwalin finished together almost every time. Their pleasures fed off of each
other through the bond. They knew what the other wanted before he ever had to
say it. And they both craved the power dynamic that reinforced their
inequality.
Lying there in the austerity of the bedroom, Fili began to wonder if he could
live off the pleasures of sex alone. After all, he wasn’t much good anymore for
anything else but sex. And if the sex felt so good, how could it be so bad to
embrace his newfound taste for submission? After all, Dwalin loved him, and
loved to give him pleasure. It hadn’t always been that way, but through the
mating bond, Fili had become Dwalin’s most favorite pastime. Dwalin loved
Fili's body, and would fight an army to defend sexual access to his mate. It
was how Dwalin expressed his love. As much as he was loving, Dwalin was also
giving. He had never wanted to deny Fili his sexual pleasure. Dwalin liked it
when Fili felt good. So of course, he gave sex freely.
In a certain light, the idea of being Dwalin’s was actually quite appealing. It
took away any and all responsibility that Fili had gained with growing older.
In an unexpected way, it had brought him back to state of childhood. It was
almost the innocent, early, and wonderful childhood that Fili had lost long
ago.
But childhood, in all its bliss, came with one drawback that Fili despised. To
be so young was to be helpless, and that was a miserable state of being. Before
he had been mated, there was only one short series of memories that Fili had
associated with absolute helplessness. The memories pertained to his father.
Fili had only two memories of Father. The first was when Erili was alive. He’d
looked much like Fili had once, broad shouldered and smiling and adorned with
rare yellow hair. The second memory was sadder. It was of Erili’s corpse.
He’d only been seven when Thorin and Erili had left on grown-up’s business.
Fili remembered Erili getting down to his knees. He’d brushed his big thumb
over the toddler down on Fili’s chin. Father’s brown eyes had crinkled up in a
smile and he’d pressed a kiss to Fili’s nose.
“Ye’ll be all right, laddie,” Father had said in his heavy, peasant brogue.
“Just a minor thing, couple o’ thieves to bring to justice. We’ll be home
before ye even know we’ve been missin’.”
Fili remembered hugging his father’s neck and rubbing his face in Father’s
short beard. Then Father and Uncle had left, both singing some lively tune that
Erili had taught to Thorin, and Fili had been left alone with the baby in the
comforting care of Mother.
He didn’t remember how long they’d actually been gone. That didn’t matter. But
he remembered when Mother had learned of Erili’s death through what he’d found
out later was her own mating bond. She’d been at the forge all afternoon,
hammering away on something he didn’t remember. Fili had toyed with massive
horseshoes from his place on a blanket in the corner. He’d listened to the
singing of the forge and had occasionally poked the big-eyed baby in the belly
to make him giggle.
He hadn’t known at the time why Mother had suddenly stopped hammering. He’d
only watched in horror as she’d let out an ear-splitting shriek, then collapsed
to the ground in hysterics. Kili had started to wail. Several dwarves and some
of the big men had come running at the commotion. Then some tall girl of the
race of men had scooped Fili and the squalling baby into her arms. She’d swept
them away from the smithy and took them back to their little house. He didn’t
remember any more from that day. But he remembered acutely how it had felt to
be hauled away from Mother when she was hurting.
The next thing he remembered was when Thorin had returned. He’d come back
wounded and battered from something far more devastating than a couple of
wayward thieves. He’d also brought back Father, but only Erili’s body.
Dis had stood stoic in the main room of the house as they'd laid out her
husband on the table. Her toddler had clung to her leg. Her infant was her
arms. Kili hadn’t been aware of what was happening. He'd gurgled happily and
had tugged on Mother’s beard, oblivious to the death that surrounded him. But
Fili, he remembered it clearly. And he had carried the painful memory deep
within his soul for the entirety of his life.
He remembered them taking off Erili’s ruined armor. He remembered all the
blood, the many wounds on his barrel chest. He remembered the deep gash in
Father’s throat, the killing strike that had cut through his beautiful voice
and sliced him down to the bone.
“Fili.” Uncle Thorin had crouched down beside him then. He’d gently grabbed
Fili by the chin and directed his attention away from Father’s body. “Do you
know what this is?”
Fili hadn’t understood. He’d asked Thorin, “Will Father wake up?”
“No, lad,” Thorin had said sadly. A furrow that would deepen over the many
following decades had formed in Thorin’s brow. “He is not sleeping.”
Fili hadn’t known what Thorin had meant. He’d wanted Father to get up, to just
get up off the table. Then he would burst into one of his big, broad grins and
spin Fili around until they collapsed to the floor. Then Father would throw him
in the air playing albatross. And Fili would pretend he could fly.
But Erili didn’t get up. He’d stayed as still and as cold as the stone he’d
been laid upon.
“Fili, your father is dead.”
“Why?”
“Because he was killed. He was killed by some very bad dwarves.”
Fili knew the K word. He hated the K word. He began to cry. Through his tears,
again he asked Uncle, “Why?”
“I will tell you why when you are older,” Thorin had said, “But not just yet.”
He’d wiped Fili’s nose with the forefinger of a bandaged hand. “Do you know
that this is just a part of being alive? That everyone must die?”
“I don’t want him to die,” Fili had said, no longer really listening. He’d
already been overcome by sadness that Father was leaving him forever. He’d
suddenly hated Uncle Thorin for his part in Father’s death. “Why did you take
him away to die?”
“Oh, lad…Shh.” Thorin had pulled him into an embrace and whispered in his ear.
“ I promise you, I did everything I could to save your father. But some things
are beyond our control.”
Thorin had then pressed his big hand to the back of Fili’s head. It was a
gesture of love and of despair at the act of being alive. They, the proud and
noble Longbeards, like all creatures of the good and beautiful earth, were one
day bound to die.
Fili had learned then what it was to be truly and ultimately helpless. It was a
miserable feeling. After that day, he had fought for his entire life to never
feel like that again.
He had known from an early age that when their people returned to their
homeland, Uncle Thorin would be the king. If Thorin died before then, or if he
never produced a son once he’d taken the crown and mated, Fili would become his
successor. Having that destiny had shaped everything about the course of Fili’s
young life. One day he would be responsible for the well-being of other people.
Taking care of another was the ultimate duty and sacrifice, but to provide for
an entire kingdom required so much more of it. So Fili had trained hard for
leadership, and had embraced his own sense of autonomy bound to selflessness
that he believed would make him a good king. In building up himself for the
future as a just and benevolent leader, he had found a sense of contentment
that had always been hard to maintain after Father’s death.
After the death of his brother-in-law, Thorin had taken on the role of Father
for Fili and Kili. Kili had taken to it well. His relationship with Thorin
seemed more like that between a father and son. But Fili remembered Father. He
loved Father. It seemed to him that thinking of Thorin as Father was to deny
Erili’s existence, as if he’d never been real at all, but just the bloody
figment of a morbid child’s imagination. But Fili turned out to be more like
Thorin than he’d expected. Fili shared his uncle’s discipline and sense of
duty. They were naturally cautious and resilient, and placed the needs of
others above the needs of themselves. And just like Fili, Thorin had also lost
the father he’d loved. A key part of Thorin's heritage now existed as little
more than a memory.
But unlike Thorin, Fili also had a rambunctious and cheerful little brother. If
ever Kili got the sense that Fili was getting down on himself, he’d come to
Fili and tug on his sleeve and in deep seriousness, would tell him there was
something of the utmost importance that Big Brother Fili had to see. Fili had
been gullible, or maybe it was just that Kili was an exceptionally good liar.
But it was always the same old trick. Inevitably Kili would have set up an
elaborate prank for the wealthy, pompous children of Men. Fili found it rather
amusing that human children could act just like dwarves – hot-tempered and
self-assured and full of unabashed pride. But Kili had always thought they
needed to be knocked down a peg or two. He achieved that with various pranks,
often involving chamber pots, rotten food, and the fancy tall hats those
abnormally-tall children wore. It stopped being all that funny after the
twelfth time, but Kili loved it just the same. His mirth had been infectious
even then, and despite having learned to catch Kili in most of his tricks, Fili
had to suppress his own laughter when ever his goofball baby brother pulled off
a trick with success.
With Kili around, Fili had grown up relatively happy. And as Fili grew older,
he’d come to realize that he’d been spared many of the troubles that were
inherent with being a dwarf. They’d been stripped of everything and lived
poorly amongst other cultures, scattered to the wind. As generally good people,
the dwarves weren’t outright despised, but neither were they really liked by
the folks whose cities they shared. Stung by their subordinance to humans, the
displaced leaders of Durin’s Folk – Thror, Thrain, Thorin – all had tried in
one way, shape, or form to reestablish dwarvish independence. Only Thorin had
thought to do it without resorting to war, and for that, Fili respected him
immensely. The bloody campaign that Thror and Thrain had engaged in against the
orcs had culminated in the pitched Battle of Azinulbizar. The dwarves had won,
but they had sustained losses so heavy that they couldn’t even bury all their
dead in stone. Thorin had been in the battle. He’d helped to burn the bodies of
his kin. And after the death of his grandfather and the disappearance of his
father, Thorin had seen enough of unnecessary war.
He’d tried a different strategy altogether – work. He'd integrated into the
working class of big folk, using his years of experience and his dwarvish knack
for craft to support his family and his kin. It had been hard work, and he’d
grown bitter behind the forge. But he saw it has his duty to his family and his
kin, and through his efforts and through his sister’s smart handling of money,
they finally got up out of poverty and could reconsolidate their people. Fili
and Kili were lads in their forties when the family finally moved away. They
left the world of men and went back to dwarvish realms.
Once in Ered Luin, Thorin quickly established himself through birthright as the
leader of his people. But after the disappearance of Thrain, who might have
still been alive, it was hard for Thorin, or anyone else for that matter, to
truly think of him as King. Fili noticed it in the other dwarves. The cousins
of Durin’s Line generally obeyed their king-in-practice, but some were
certainly headstrong and challenged Thorin’s authority. Dain Ironfoot had been
one. That dwarf was a pleasure-seeking opportunist, and he was smarter even
than Thorin. Together with Niris, his shrewd and calculating mate, the pair
were nigh unstoppable. But to his credit, Dain had recognized Thorin’s pivotal
role in single-handedly reuniting the scattered dwarven clans. He'd brought the
lost people back to settle in the Blue Mountains among others of their kind,
and for that, Dain had never openly defied Thorin as his acting king. That
didn’t mean he had no qualms about loudly criticizing Thorin’s methods.
Meetings with the two – or three, really, since Niris was Dain’s equal – were
always lively affairs. Very often they would descend into battles between three
strong willed, intelligent dwarves, and they’d never get anything done. In
those meetings, Fili was always reminded of why the most efficient governments
were run by a single leader.
Growing up observing the intricacies of the court had given Fili a deep sense
of the responsibility that any leader, king or otherwise, had for the people
whose lives he governed. As an heir of Durin’s Line, Fili was tremendously
conscious of the legacy that would one day place dwarvish lives into his hands.
He’d seen enough and read enough about different rules of people to know that
leaders of any group were leaders because they were powerful. Good leaders were
the ones who used that power wisely, with strong and skillful and gently
guiding hands. He wanted to be the best. He wouldn’t let himself be anything
less. For even if he never became king, even if Thorin mated one day and
produced an heir of his own, Fili still might be an advisor to his king. He
would definitely be a lord. There had been no escape from a future in which
he’d be responsible for the lives of others. If he was to be held accountable
for the safety of a whole people, he could never again afford to be as
powerless as he’d felt when Erili had died.
So Fili had trained hard. He had taken up his lessons, all of them, with zeal.
He’d trained his body to be rugged and versatile. Unlike his brother, Fili had
been more suited to a diversity of combat styles than expertise in a single
weapon. He’d inherited his father’s twin daggers and so he'd started with
those. When he’d mastered them, he’d moved up in size to falchions. Then he’d
learned to use Mother’s warhammer. Then finally he’d tried ranged weapons in
the form of throwing axes.
The adaptability he’d cultivated as a warrior served him well in the study,
too. He’d been good on the training field, but it was in the library where Fili
had truly shined. Though Fili liked the physicality of combat well enough, he
didn’t really like the ultimate purpose behind training with weapons. Knowledge
seemed much more benevolent. So when Fili hadn’t been learning swordplay or
keeping Kili out of too much trouble, he’d delved greedily into the endless
wealth of knowledge that was the history of his people. He loved the stories
about the kings of Durin’s Line. He was fascinated by the beautiful things his
people could make, or their uncanny ability to extract seemingly endless wealth
from the unforgiving stone. The ancestral halls of his kind were truly wonders
of the world. Moria was older than the sun, and Erebor was near as ancient. The
dwarves had been made strong, they had been made creative, and they had been
made to last. Fili liked being a dwarf.
The only thing Fili had ever found unsettling about his kind was the dwarvish
propensity for war. Perhaps it was because he had never entirely gotten over
his the death of his father. Swords in the wrong hands killed good and innocent
people. So did daggers. So did warhammers. So too could hands if they had been
trained as weapons. Anything could be a weapon. And just as the dwarves were
ingenious miners, always discovering new ways of unearthing endless gold, so
too were they capable of finding new and endless reasons to go to war. They
were a proud and honor-bound people. They bristled with needless violence at
the merest of personal insults. As a culture, they went to war for what often
seemed to Fili like greed and arrogance. Fili’s view on war was perhaps the
only undwarvish thing about him. But like a true dwarf, he stubbornly held to
his convictions that war was not the way. And like a true dwarf, his opinion
came down to heritage. But this time, it was personal.
Thorin had eventually told Fili the truth about Erili’s death. What had started
as the hunt for a pair of ragged criminals had soon escalated into a small and
brutal battle that had killed a dozen dwarves. Erili had been one among that
number. He’d managed to steal back the stolen mithril battleaxe, but they'd
been ambushed by an enemy trap. Thorin had tried to save Erili, but they were
outnumbered and outarmed. It had never really been about stealing an axe at
all. But before Thorin could be captured, Erili had gotten the upper hand. He
had used the heirloom axe and fought fiercely against the enemy so that his
king could escape the threat. He’d managed to take down four of the other
dwarves before one had caught him by the braids and slit open his throat. In
his vengeful wrath, Thorin had killed the remaining seven criminals. Then,
injured and broken-hearted, he’d returned home. Thorin had brought back the
battleaxe and the body of his sister’s mate. And then he had to tell his
toddler nephew that Fili’s father had been killed.
Erili had been the least deserving of people to die. Over a battleaxe, no less.
His father’s priceless life had been traded for a hunk of metal. Because of the
worthlessness of Erili’s death and the similar reasons that drove cultures to
kill each other, Fili had grown up hating war and the motivations behind most
of them.
Dwarves went to war for reasons that weren’t so different than why Fili was now
who he was. Dwalin had wanted power that wasn’t his. But since Dwalin had lived
for and excelled at warfare, it was all he knew. So Dwalin had declared war on
Fili, and through him, on Thorin’s crown. Because of Fili’s youth and his
inexperience compared to Dwalin, he had been swiftly and brutally defeated in
the first crucial battle for his liberty. Then he’d lost each and every minor
skirmish in the two weeks that had followed. In the heat, his body had betrayed
him. Like a trusted ally desperate to save its own skin, his body had responded
to Dwalin’s brutal assault. Consumed by the compulsion of the heat, Fili had
had no choice but to surrender to the siege. That battle had broken the back of
his defiance. It still took some time for Dwalin to whittle away at the little
remaining pockets of Fili’s resistance, and by chance, for a brief while, Fili
had found refuge with an unexpected ally. But in the end, circumstance had
driven him out from hiding. Then when Dwalin came after him, he did so with a
vengeance. It had been in the house in Laketown where Dwalin had rooted out
Fili's final stronghold. There, he had found the last part of who Fili had been
– the singer, Erili’s son, the sensitive, idealistic boy who’d been reared to
be a king, but who had ultimately been conquered by a willingly ruthless foe.
Fili had known he'd been defeated. So he had fallen to his knees and submitted
to his fate. And when his enemy had finally run him through, it had been a
merciful death.
But now, Fili had been reborn. Life had been breathed into his bones again. And
where there was life, there was a future. It wasn't a future that Fili had ever
expected, but it could not be changed. His future now was inextricably tied to
his mate. His future was as Dwalin’s Cherished One. He’d be loved for the rest
of his days by a strong and able champion. It felt like being a child again.
Only this time, he’d never have to grow up out of the comforting arms of his
protector. There was an opportunity here after all. Fili would never have to
worry or want for anything. Dwalin would always provide. Fili would support and
serve his mate, and in return, Dwalin would care for him. They would compliment
each other. They could have happiness together.
Once, not so long ago, Fili had been unwilling to pay the price for that
happiness. But the price had been exacted anyways against his will. He no
longer had dignity. Freedom was as dead as Erili. And Dwalin, as Fili's more
powerful mate, had every right now to punish Fili for his resistance. But
Dwalin didn’t want to do that. He wanted Fili to be happy. Instead of punishing
Fili for his defiance, loving and wonderful Dwalin was ready to forgive
everything. Fili just had to submit.
So Fili did. It felt good to be forgiven.
Fili felt a rush of deep and freeing peace as he gave in to his beloved. He
wanted it then, he decided. He wanted to be everything that Dwalin had made him
into – pliant and obedient and helpless. Cherished above all, and deeply loved.
It was a want that originated now not from Dwalin, but from Fili himself. And
because Fili wanted it first, so too then did Dwalin.
Suddenly it didn’t matter that Dwalin had brutalized him. It had been a
necessary step in breaking the defiant prince down. Then, only then, could Fili
have been reformed into what Dwalin wanted him to be. There was even pleasure
to it. Fili liked that he had been broken. He liked being made to offer up his
body to the sexual needs of his mate. What had started as the most physically
painful experience of Fili’s entire life had eventually become the most
intensely pleasurable thing of all. Better than food, better than beer, better
than friendship. It was better than gold. Even Dwalin knew that. Fili was a
priceless sexual treasure, whose worth Dwalin held above rubies. And like
rubies, Fili was meant to be hoarded. If Dwalin wanted to, he would be well
within his rights to keep Fili locked away in the belly of a mountain. And
there, in Dwalin's possession, Fili could be appreciated at the whim and will
of his mate.
It wasn’t such a bad thought. Fili wasn’t good for much else beyond sex
anymore. He didn’t really feel the need for much else. He didn’t need freedom.
He didn’t need friends. He just needed Dwalin. And that was all.
The idea had a near-erotic element to it. In fact, it was erotic, and
tremendously so. Now, as the adult desire came back into Fili’s body, it did
not stem from his mate. Instead, it stemmed from Fili.
You want something, m’love? Fili could sense that Dwalin felt his arousal. As
usual, Dwalin was more than happy to help. You know you’ve only got to beg for
it.
Will you please give me relief?
Right now? Dwalin's voice was a mockery of coyness.
If you wish it, my love.
I do wish it.
Fili could feel Dwalin’s swelling pleasure coupled with the need to dominate
and Fili's own desire to submit. He obeyed his mate’s urgings and slid off the
mattress. He took up a spot with his back to the hard floor. There he slipped
his hand into his underthings and took up his stiffening manhood. He lay
stroking himself, imagining his mate there with him. When he arched his back,
his shoulder blades ground into the stone. Fili felt good, being in pain.
Dwalin reveled in his pleasure.
He caressed his mostly nude body with his scarred right palm. As he fondled
himself he used his fingernails to dig into the skin on his belly. His weight
had started coming back just a little, but from his lack of exertion, next to
none of it was muscle. He was growing back soft. After being broad and strong
and hard-bodied for so long, being little and soft was odd. But Dwalin seemed
to like it. Warriors weren’t soft-bodied, but Fili wasn’t a warrior anymore. He
was a bed companion. And soft things might be nicer to fuck.
Fili continued to move his fingernails down his body. They were short so he
could only cut himself a little with them. But it was still blissfully painful
when he scraped into the sensitive places between his legs. He gave a soft gasp
of pleasure as he pressed his own fingers into his entrance. It was easier to
do now after months of being trained, but there was still some natural
resistance from the muscles. It still hurt delightfully when he penetrated
himself dry for the pleasure of his mate.
“Fili?”
It feels good, my love, Fili told the deep voice. So good.
Then he realized he hadn’t felt it, but heard it.
It was Kili.
His eyes snapped open. Kili’s look of confusion swiftly turned into horror,
then revulsion. Immediately Kili grabbed hold of Fili’s wrists. He yanked
Fili’s hands away from his groin.
“No!” Kili cried. “He’s not supposed to hurt you like that anymore!”
“Let me go!” Fili screamed. “Get your fucking hands off me!”
Fili thrashed against his brother furiously, howling at the top of his lungs.
Kili threw himself down on Fili to hold him still. Pinned by the weight of his
brother, Fili was suddenly reminded of Dwalin’s body on top of him. He was
already aroused from Dwalin’s presence within him. Now, the familiarity of
being physically restrained, even by his own brother, heightened his sensual
pleasure. He gasped and pressed his hips upward, grinding his naked hardness
against his brother’s shirtless torso.
The sensation was wrong, so wrong. But through the bond, Fili knew that Dwalin
enjoyed the sudden thought of one brother molesting the other. There was
something ghastly and sick about it. But Dwalin took immense pleasure in the
thought of bringing the pair together in order to break them apart.
Fili had never been good at resisting Dwalin’s desires. But now that he’d
submitted, he was immediately swept up in Dwalin’s carnality.
He decided he liked this. His brother was strong and beautiful. Kili was a
pretty, young thing who could have the heart of any dwarf he desired. He just
needed to be trained to take what he wanted.
Fili moaned softly at the delightful thought of destroying Kili’s innocence.
And he knew just how to do it.
“You like being in control, Kili?” Fili murmured. “Are you enjoying this?”
“You shut up!”
Fili continued to thrust against Kili’s muscled waist. “It’s a glorious thing,
power. You get to do whatever you want. You get to take whatever you want. No
one can stop you.”
Fili craned his neck and pressed his open mouth to Kili’s pulsing throat. When
his brother jerked away, Fili arched his back to close the distance between
their bodies. He wriggled his left leg free and brought it up around Kili’s
waist. Kili slipped on the stones and came crashing down onto Fili. For a
scintillating moment, Fili reveled in the warm pressure of Kili’s muscular body
being forced down hard on his chest.
But Kili was a good wrestler. And he was a dirty cheat. With a yell Kili
smacked Fili hard across the face. He gripped Fili’s wrists again, harder. Then
Kili finished his brother by swiftly thudding his knee up into Fili’s groin.
The nauseating, debilitating pain spread up from Fili’s pelvis. He groaned as
it mingled with the pleasure of being restrained. When the pain finally
subsided, he was more aroused than ever. And by now, Kili had repositioned
himself. He held Fili’s bandaged wrists to the floor and he was straddling
Fili’s thighs to keep him from kicking. Fili could swivel his hips, and then
their groins were touching. Beneath the thin fabric of Kili’s underthings, Fili
could feel Kili’s manhood. Soft and young and unused. He looked up at his
brother through his eyelashes, panting with want. Then he bucked himself hard
into Kili’s groin. At the violation, tears welled up in Kili’s eyes, but he
didn’t budge. Kili was in control. Fili liked that. He snaked his tongue out of
his mouth and curled it provocatively at his brother.
“If you come of age and you take a mate by force,” Fili breathed, “You’ll
experience pleasure you’ve never dreamed of. You could do it, too. You’re
strong. Take what you want, Kili. Take everything.”
“No!” Kili’s eyes glittered with defiance beneath his tears. “I’m not like
that! I will never be like you!”
“You will be, brother. Your choice. Take what you want or be eaten.”
Fili watched his beautiful brother with desire. He felt Dwalin’s pleasure
mounting inside him. He responded to it by grinding his hips until he was
pressed once more against Kili’s flaccid maleness. There he stayed and rocked
his hips, just enough to feel it. Soft things really are nice to fuck, he
thought. He suddenly wanted more from Kili than he knew his brother could give
yet. That was okay, though. He could imagine it.
Kili was in his heat, and Fili had been the only dwarf around. Kili pinned Fili
down against the stone floor and bit hard on his body until he punctured the
flesh, claiming his brother as his lover. Kili held his brother down and
plundered Fili’s mouth with his tongue. He rubbed those big, powerful hands
possessively over Fili’s skin. Kili was swollen with need, and he took what he
wanted. He hoisted Fili’s legs up and forced his thick cock up into Fili’s
body. Kili thrust into him, hard and brutal and sensual until he spilled
himself into Fili’s guts. Through the singular act of sowing his wild seeds,
Kili solidified his own adult desires into those that were just like Dwalin’s.
Dwalin’s orgasm sent Fili over the edge. The peak was a strong one. Fili’s seed
shot hard out of him to splatter across both their bodies. Kili flinched as a
fleck hit him in the face. But his grip on Fili’s wrists never faltered.
Fili closed his eyes. He was immobilized, descending into the rich calm that
followed the climax. Dwalin was so satisfied within him, so completely content.
Fili was content, too. It had felt so good to relinquish everything. Fili had
finally let go and let Dwalin use him entirely – his body, his soul, and
finally his mind – for Dwalin’s own pleasure.
Nothing had been more freeing.
Dwalin drifted off into the sweet darkness of post-coital slumber. As the
presence of his mate diminished Fili began to feel a little bit more like
himself.
The sudden wave of sickly horror washed over him. He snapped his eyes open.
When he saw Kili above him, he realized what he had done.
“No!”
He burst into tears. Immediately, Kili sprang off of him. Fili sobbed
uncontrollably as Kili hauled him into his arms. Fili clutched his brother as
tightly as he could. He didn’t know what else to do.
The comforting touch had been corrupted. Fili’s skin crawled at the feel of his
stickiness on Kili’s chest. The familiar smell of Kili’s sweat was soiled by
Kili’s terror and Fili’s lust and by the acrid stench of Fili’s seed. Dread
poured through Fili as he realized what he’d become.
“I’m sorry,” Fili cried. “I’m so sorry! Oh, what have I done!?”
“Fili…” Kili had never sounded so shaken. “No, Fi… It’s him.”
“Aah!”
Kili pushed Fili back and gripped him by the sides of the head.
“Fili, look at me. Look at me!”
Fili opened his eyes. Kili was inches from his face, breathing heavily through
his nostrils. Tears streaked unchecked from his wide, terrified eyes, but Kili
didn’t look away.
“Stay with me, brother. Stay.”
***** Chapter 27 *****
They didn’t speak to each other.
They didn’t even look at each other.
It was as if they were two long-dead spirits sharing a room. Haunting a
physical place in nonoverlapping times.
After the assault Kili had quickly cleaned the filth from his body and had
gotten dressed. Fili still lay shivering with his knees curled to his chest. At
some point Fili felt Kili drop a blanket onto him. Fili hid his traitorous
flesh from sight within the blanket. Then he resumed his fetal position on the
hard stone upon which he had raped his brother.
Time passed. A few hours stretched into many. From behind him Fili heard the
bedroom door open. Then it closed. He heard it again sometime later. Kili was a
ghost in his comings and goings.
Kili didn’t look at Fili when he set a cup of water and a meager plate of food
on the floor near Fili’s head. Then he disappeared again to the other side of
the room. Fili drank the water. He left the food. A handful of berries, a piece
of brown bread, a small glop of his usual nourishing gruel. He didn’t want any
of it. He already knew it would taste of death.
Many hours must have passed by the time he felt the hand on his shoulder. Fili
tensed at the touch and Kili wouldn’t look him in the eye.
“Get up,” Kili said. Then he added, more gently, “Please.”
Fili obeyed. He clutched the blanket like a shroud over his body as Kili hooked
his arm around Fili’s middle. Where he could feel the warm press of Kili’s body
through the fabric there was a palpable discomfort. Fili tried not to think
about it. Kili helped him limp to their pile of clothing on the other side of
the room. When Kili let Fili go, he did so quickly. Fili didn’t miss the
shudder of Kili’s shoulders as he shivered off the lingering molestation.
Kili still didn’t meet Fili’s eyes as he thrust a simple tunic, some trousers,
and socks into Fili’s hands. Fili turned his back and used the blanket to cover
himself as he slowly dressed. He managed to get the tunic and the right sock on
by himself, but he still couldn’t bear the full weight of his body on his
damaged right leg. He needed help with the rest.
“Kili?”
Kili turned. He offered Fili his arm and turned his head away, staring at
something unseen across the room. As quickly as he could, Fili finished
dressing. Then he let Kili go. He stayed there, waiting.
Finally Kili looked at him. He blinked a few times as if trying not to look
away. But then he offered Fili his arm again.
“Let’s go.”
“Where?” Fili asked as he took Kili’s arm.
“Privy,” Kili said. “Do you need it?”
“Oh.” Fili thought about it. Then he nodded.
The toilet was located in a corner at the end of a nondescript bath hall near
the royal apartments. Once they were there they did their private business.
When Fili took his turn, Kili stood near him. Fili was grateful that Kili had
the decency not to watch. When Fili was finished, Kili pushed Fili out of the
little room with the toilet and pointed at the nearby corner.
“Wait for me,” Kili commanded. Then he shut the privy door and retained his
dignity.
Fili did as he’d been commanded and sat with his back to the corner. He wrapped
his knees in his arms and stared at the floor. He noticed a small, dark fissure
in the stone floor some feet away. He watched the fissure with rapt attention.
The tip of a little green plant appeared within the crack and began to grow. It
grew longer. Then a leaf unfurled from the vine.
His heart jumped in his chest when Kili touched his shoulder. Kili stood above
him, looking down at him sternly. Then Kili held out his hand. Fili took it. As
he got to his feet, he glanced back at the fissure. The weed was gone. The
crack had only been a seam of black stone within the grey.
When they got back to the sitting room, Kili released his hold on Fili. “I want
you to try walking on your own,” he said.
Fili obeyed. His leg quivered as he distributed his weight between both legs.
Pain started to radiate up from the bad knee. Then a burning sensation began to
pulse within the thigh muscles as he shifted his weight onto his right foot and
took a tiny step with his left. Then he lifted his right foot and moved it
forward. He managed to take a few uneven, hobbled steps before he looked back
over his shoulder at Kili.
Kili had folded his arms across his chest. The furrow in his brow made him look
like Thorin. Then he gave a sniff and thumbed his nose. “Get to the bedroom
door and I’ll help you again.”
It took a lot of concentration, but eventually Fili made it to the door.
Traversing the distance by himself was hard, but he embraced the pain as his
punishment. When he got to the door, he continued through it towards the
mattress on the floor. He would have marched to the sea if it could have
allowed him to take back what he’d done. He only stopped when Kili closed in
behind him and hooked his arm around his waist. Then Kili helped Fili limp
towards to the mattress and laid him down there in shame.
When Kili had gotten Fili settled, he leaned back onto his heels and stared at
Fili. He still wore their uncle’s frown.
“You are to tell me when he wakes up in you, do you understand?”
Fili didn’t say anything. He averted his gaze, unable to hold Kili’s glare.
“Fili, look at me.”
Fili obeyed.
“I won’t have him using your own body to hurt you. Not anymore.” Then he
inhaled deeply and let his breath out in a sigh that was edged with fear. “And
I won’t have him hurting me.”
“I don’t think he can,” Fili said softly. “You’re too strong, Kili. I’m not
strong enough to hurt you.”
“Shut up,” Kili snapped. “I don’t want to hear you say that.”
“I’m sorry, Kili.” He closed his eyes and suddenly felt like he was standing in
a downpour. The endless rain came down around and through him. It dragged down
the leaves and the branches and the mosses of the despairing forest in his
mind. “I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t want to hear that, either.”
But I need to say it, Fili thought miserably. He had always been well-spoken,
but now he was at a loss for words beyond, I’m sorry. There was no way to say
to his brother that he’d freely given his autonomy, for however brief a time,
to a violent, manipulative monster. There was no way to say that he’d enjoyed
what he’d done while he’d done it. And there would never be a way to say that
he had been fully aware of his actions, but so consumed by the pleasure of his
subservience that he’d ignored the consequences.
Through the act of submitting his mind to Dwalin’s control, Fili had sold
everything – everything – in the name of physical pleasure. By the time Kili
had noticed him, he’d had nothing left to sell. But Dwalin was greedy. Dwalin
had always called Fili perfect, like gold. But now it seemed that gold was no
longer enough. In his insatiable need for wealth and power, Dwalin had tapped
into a seam that he’d never noticed before. This metal was fairer than gold,
and rarer. And it was far more dangerous to extract.
Kili hadn’t been gold. He’d been mithril. And now Dwalin wanted him, too.
Fili was a strange dwarf for he’d never really appreciated mithril for all its
worth. The battleaxe that had led to his father’s death had been made of the
silvery stuff. Though mithril was considered priceless, Father had been worth
so much more to Fili than any metal of the ancient world. But now, he felt the
comparison was apt. Kili was as irreplaceable as Erili had once been. And as
Erili had once sacrificed himself for the sake of a battleaxe, Fili had given
everything for the sake of his brother’s future.
But after the incident in the night, Fili knew that gifting himself to Dwalin’s
bed would no longer be enough. He knew it because Dwalin felt it, and now had
his sights set on Kili.
For his part in it, Fili felt inescapably responsible for what happened to his
brother. Of all the mistakes and wrongs that he had ever committed, willingly
submitting to Dwalin was the absolute worst. His enjoyment during the crime
made it truly unconscionable. Fili had been completely aware of his arousal for
his younger, more vulnerable kin. Once he had seen Kili’s fierce beauty, a
trait that as his brother he had never seen before, he had let Dwalin lead him
down the path of incestuous lust, and he had reveled in the feel of Kili’s
strength and his potential for dominance. Then finally, overcome with passion
for his own flesh and blood, Fili had sprayed his seed over Kili’s chest and
neck and face. It was as if he had branded Kili a stallion, an elegant and
powerful creature who could kill a dwarf at a whim.
A stallion is better than a sheep, he thought ruefully. But a stallion still
isn’t a person.
Fili didn’t know how to say any of that. Not at the moment. The only thing he
knew how to say right now was that he was sorry. He was so, so sorry for his
choices. He was so sorry he had willingly let Dwalin use him, for it was
through Fili’s own corruption that Dwalin had violated Kili. And now that he
had submitted, there was nothing he could do but say he was sorry for the crime
he had committed and would through the strength of the bond inevitably commit
again.
But Kili didn’t want to hear his apologies. So Fili stopped apologizing. At
least, he stopped saying it out loud. But he could still say it in his head.
Forgive me, brother. Forgive me.
Right now, thankfully, Dwalin was too deep in slumber to hear him.
* * * * *
Kili had never seen anyone look more miserable than Fili did right then. Fili
lay upon the mattress, scarred hands resting upon his bony chest. His eyes were
wan and full of sorrow at everything that had happened.
The incident was weighing on Fili’s mind, Kili knew. It was in Kili’s heart,
too. He still didn’t know what to say about it. Since he’d learned his lessons
about blurting things out before thinking, he made it a point to keep his mouth
shut. He still felt things, though. He felt a lot of things. And it was hard
right now to make sense of all the things he felt.
When he’d awoken in the night, Kili had reached out for Fili across the
mattress. It was an old gesture, that one. An old habit that had yet to die.
Fili hadn’t been there on the mattress, but Kili could hear his soft, deep
breathing. In the puzzlement that always accompanied waking, Kili had opened
his eyes and had let them adjust to the low light in the room and searched
until he saw Fili.
At first he hadn’t known what was happening. He was as familiar with his
brother’s body as he was with his own, but he’d never seen Fili look like that.
Back arched as if in pain, one hand thrust deep between his legs and the other
stroking his manhood.
His brother’s name had slipped unbidden out of his mouth, more a question of
what was happening than an utterance of anything else. But then Fili had opened
his eyes. And when he’d fixed them on Kili, the darkness and the lust and the
pain in Fili’s soul hit Kili like a blow to the stomach. He'd realized
immediately what was happening. He’d never been so repulsed in his life. Nor
had he ever been so filled with such a desperate need to stop it.
He’d tackled the beast that had possessed his brother and had pinned it to the
floor. This was Dwalin in Fili’s weakened body – without Dwalin’s physical
strength, it was easy to hold him down. Kili hadn’t wanted to hurt Fili, but it
was crucial to keep Dwalin restrained. But then something dark and possessive
had flared up in Fili’s eyes, and the threat that came with it made Kili defend
himself and his brother in the only way he could – by pinning Fili against the
floor and enduring the traumatic affair until Fili had finally been spent.
Kili had no idea of what to make of the incident. Whatever it had been, it had
certainly been degrading. It still bothered him, too. Even touching Fili now
reminded Kili of the filthiness of the affair. He didn’t like that feeling. The
discomfort he still felt from his brother’s touch bothered him more than the
touch was actually a discomfort. It wasn’t right for brothers to be repulsed by
each another’s bodies. They were kin – the touch was a good thing between kin.
But now, that touch had changed. It had been corrupted by something that Kili
couldn’t quite wrap his thoughts around. Maybe it was because he was still too
young. Or maybe it was because the experience had been so violating that it
didn't matter what his age was. But as violating as it had felt, he was not
sure if it could even be called rape. No penetration had happened, no mating
bonds had been forged, and it wasn’t even clear who had been the attacker or
the target. If it did qualify as rape, who defined it as such? Was it he, Kili,
for having felt violated by his own brother’s touch, or was it his brother,
Fili, whom Kili had held down by force? Or was it actually Dwalin, who had
forced them into that situation despite not even being there? Kili scratched
his head in troubled thought. Is it even possible for three dwarves to rape
each other at once?
Kili felt like he was in over his head. It was like he was swimming in pool of
dark, chaotic waters. But when he glanced at his brother, he remembered that
he’d had it easy in comparison to Fili. Whereas he could see the light through
the mire of his emotions, Fili was still alone in a long-lost mine, being
hunted by the balrog.
He drew his lip up into his mouth and looked at his brother. Fili refused to
return his gaze, too deep in his own thoughts and sadness to see that Kili
wanted to talk to him.
“Fili.” The name came out harsher than Kili had intended it. He softened his
tone, then whispered, “Brother.”
Fili turned his head to the side and briefly looked at Kili. Then he averted
his gaze again.
Kili sucked in a deep breath and stood. Pushing past his discomfort, he went to
his side of the bed. He crawled into it next to Fili and slipped himself
beneath Fili’s left arm. There, he curled up with his head on Fili’s chest. His
ear was above Fili’s heartbeat. There was tension between them still, a
lingering sense of trouble from where their bodies had wrongly touched. But
Kili was determined to let Fili know that he was not to blame for what had
happened. He needed Fili to know that it was possible to move beyond the past,
and that as bleak as things seemed now, things could still get better.
“I need to tell you something, Fili.”
Fili said nothing, but his soft sigh indicated he was listening.
“It’s not your fault, what happened.” Then Kili added, “But that doesn’t mean
you can’t get yourself out of this darkness.”
“Oh, Kili…” Fili lifted his hand and brushed Kili’s hair back from his face and
off the burn that had marred Kili’s features. “You don’t understand. He’s too
strong.”
“You’re strong, too. I wish you could see how strong you are.”
“I’m not strong.” Fili suddenly readjusted in the bed and scooted himself out
from under Kili. He turned to face Kili with a melancholy gaze. “I can’t defeat
him. I…” As Fili trailed off he gave Kili the strangest expression that Kili
had ever seen. Fili reddened then, and he gave a little shudder as he squeezed
his eyes shut. “Oh, I don’t know how to say this.”
“Just say it,” Kili offered. But then again, not everyone just blurted out the
first thing that came to his mind. “I won’t be mean to you.”
Fili stayed quiet. Then he rubbed his hand through his short hair and left it
resting on the scar on the back of his neck.
“I wanted you,” he murmured at last.
Kili frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, Kili…”
As it gradually dawned on Kili what Fili meant, discomfort began to slowly
creep up his spine.
“As in… Oh! Oh, Fili… I don’t – I…”
“I know,” Fili said quickly. “You’re young. And you’re my brother. And I’m
mated. It’s not supposed to be that way.”
Kili swallowed. He wasn’t sure what to do. He’d never heard of a dwarf lusting
for a juvenile, nor had he ever heard of dwarvish infidelity. It was as if it
didn’t exist, just as hobbits didn’t engage in rape, or elves and men did not
forge bonds of stone between their souls.
Suddenly he was too uncomfortable to stay there against his brother. He scooted
back and sat up upon the mattress. There, with space between them, he picked at
his thumbnail, unsure of what to say.
“Kili?”
“Aye?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Oh, no,” Kili shook his head. “You don’t have to say you’re sorry. I don’t
know if you can help that feeling. I mean, I feel lots of things I can’t
control.”
“This is different, Kili.” Fili’s voice had an ominous edge to it. Kili
wondered if there was something far more menacing to what Fili was trying to
say than what Kili had originally thought.
“Is it because of him?” When Kili glanced over at Fili, his brother gave a
brief, dejected nod. Kili grimaced at Fili’s continued sense of helplessness.
“You don’t have to do what he tells you, Fili.”
“He hurts me when I don’t,” said Fili. He was silent again for a long time.
Then he said, “Do you want to know the truth?”
Kili didn’t answer that. He remembered what he’d heard the last time he’d said
yes to that question. But he felt like in this case, he had to know. Or perhaps
it was that Fili had to tell him. So he braced himself to hear something
sickening. Then at last, he nodded his head.
“I submitted to him,” Fili said. “I freely gave him my soul. In reward, he gave
me physical pleasure. Even that is tainted by pain. I… I wanted to be locked in
a dungeon to be used at a whim. And for the first time, I wanted it before he
did. And so, when I submitted to him in my mind, he took my body and through
it, he raped you because I no longer satisfied him. He will never be
satisfied.” Fili suddenly gripped Kili by the forearms. The look in his eyes
was wild with fear and near madness. “He will use me to eat you because he can.
It is because he wants everything. There is no stopping him. I can’t fight him
off anymore. I’m going mad, Kili. I can’t stop dreaming about him. Even when
he’s sleeping, a part of me - his part of me - is lifeless because it is
asleep. And when he dreams” – Fili let out a low gasp of horror – “He is
dreaming as we speak of the things that he would make us do.”
Kili felt the blood drain from his face. His gut twisted again inside him. This
time, he had nothing but bile in his belly. The disgust and dread writhed
together into a caustic mess of spite and vengeance within him. When the acid
that was his emotion bubbled up out of him, Kili poured all of his vehemence
into his precisely chosen words.
“There is one thing that can stop him,” Kili hissed. “We can kill him.”
***** Chapter 28 *****
Fili had said nothing after Kili had proposed to murder Dwalin. It was not that
he was shocked by what Kili was feeling. Fili himself had wanted to kill Dwalin
at times for what he had done. But he no longer felt that way, not anymore. A
part of him no longer felt that Dwalin could be killed at all. He was simply
too powerful now. Fili sensed it through the bond. Not even fire could destroy
Dwalin, for he was the balrog. Compared to Dwalin, Fili felt like nothing.
But there was another reason that Fili could not quite identify just yet. It
had to do with the forest that had grown up in him since the infirmary, but
Fili could not say exactly what about the forest required Dwalin’s presence.
Fili hated living in a forest. He was scared of it and how it had come into
existence. The dark and menacing trees clawed at the grey sky above. Forests
were unclean, and they were filled with nasty, violating things like spiders
and enchanted rivers and an old, sinister magic that was opposite in nature to
everything good that Fili knew. But as much as he disliked it, he was here now,
in the green-black forest of his mind. Until he could find his way out of it,
he was stuck here. That very well could be for the rest of his life, Fili
thought sadly. It scared him, the prospect of being so lost in the woods, and
dying here alone, so far away from his people.
When he said as much far later that same day to Kili, his brother hadn't
understood.
“You think you’re in a forest?” Kili asked, taking Fili too literally. He was
sitting cross-legged on the mattress beside Fili. “But you’re in Erebor.”
“No.” Fili shook his head. He propped himself up on his left elbow and fixed
Kili with a pensive gaze. “Do you know what a metaphor is?”
Kili’s silence said that he didn’t. He had skipped most of his lessons growing
up, and now it was showing.
“Well, suffice it to say, I think the trees are… feelings,” Fili said. Kili
stayed quiet. He was listening, though. Fili continued. “They grow up around me
quickly and they rot and turn nasty and… well, Dwalin’s a thundercloud. There’s
no shelter in a forest from a thundercloud.”
Kili frowned at that. “Aye, there is,” he argued. “You remember that hunting
trip? The one where we didn’t get anything?”
“Ah, that one,” Fili muttered.
The whole trip had been an adventure in utter failure. Their first mistake had
been leaving too early in the season for anything but elk and hare. Kili had
been eager to try his new bow and had convinced Fili to leave the hare traps at
home. But Kili was still a novice at the time, and halfway through the trip he
had used up all his arrows. The only catches they managed to get were a few
small mountain fish, some unripe berries, and a lot of bitter disappointment.
The trip had finally ended in a brutal encounter in a village tavern, where
Kili had, in a random burst of fury, picked a fight with three drunk men who
were each nearly thrice his size. Then finally, on their way back to their
Uncle’s halls in Ered Luin, they had been caught in a nasty thunderstorm that
had delayed their return by three days. Thorin had been furious with them for
their tardiness. In addition to the humiliating tongue-lashing that he had
given the both of them, he had revoked their hunting privileges until the
following season.
At the time, the whole experience had been a disastrous one, but now the memory
brought a small smile to Fili’s face. He had lived through worse.
“I remember.”
“Do you remember the shelter we made?”
“You mean the shelter that you made? That was your idea, Kili. You’re smarter
than you think you are.”
“Nah.” Kili gave a waggle of his head and picked at his fingernails. “It just
seemed obvious to me, really. You found that hollow in the cliff face, but the
wind and rain was driving. We had to lash a bunch of sticks together to block
out the weather otherwise the fire would have died. Then we’d have frozen to
death.” He gave Fili a little frown then. “There’s shelter in the woods, you
just… have to know how to find it. Or make it. Or both.”
“You were always better in the woods than I was,” said Fili.
Kili shifted uncomfortably beside Fili. “You can learn.”
“I don’t know if I can anymore,” Fili said morosely. “I just… don’t quite have
the energy that I used to. Even for learning. It’s almost as if I’ve grown slow
in the mind from everything that’s happened.”
“You’re not stupid, Fili.” Kili pushed him gently in the shoulder. “You’re the
smartest dwarf I know.”
“Am I?” Fili sighed heavily and lay down upon his back and stared at the
sweeping ceiling. “Then why didn’t I see this coming?”
“Don’t do that,” Kili chastised. “I’m not letting you blame yourself anymore.”
“But Kili.” Fili’s voice had dropped to a hoarse whisper. “I should have made
my choice, but I delayed. I waited until it was too late. Then Dwalin made the
choice for me.”
“No,” Kili snapped at him. “What he did to you was not your fault. I don’t ever
want to hear you say that again.”
“All right,” Fili acquiesced. He had grown used to taking orders without
question.
Kili went silent for some time. Fili could hear him picking at his fingernails
and he listened to the soft, rhythmic click of Kili’s idle hands. Then Kili
went quiet.
“You said that Dwalin was like the thunderstorm,” Kili said slowly. “Well,
thunderstorms bring rain. And trees need rain to grow.”
Fili sat up and stared at his brother. “That’s it,” he said softly.
Kili blinked at him. “Really?" He pulled a face. "That was just a random
guess.”
“No, that’s precisely what it is,” Fili said. “The forest is lush and dangerous
because there’s a lot of rain. And if it stops raining, the forest will die.”
Kili went quiet again and still as the grave. He swallowed audibly. “Fili,” he
murmured slowly, “What would happen if that happened?”
“If the forest died?” When Kili nodded, Fili said, “I think the trees are me. I
think I might die.”
Kili gave a soft, sad sound and picked up Fili’s right hand. That was the bad
hand, the useless hand. Kili didn’t seem to care. He just intertwined his
fingers with Fili’s and refused to let him go. Then he put on Thorin’s frown
and returned Fili’s stare with a steely gaze that was entirely his own. “I’m
not going to let you die, Fili.”
“Oh, Kili…”Fili closed his eyes. As he did so, he found himself standing amidst
the trees, alone in his world of green, unpleasant things that would wither and
die without the rain. “Everyone dies.”
“Hey!” The snap in Kili’s voice made Fili open his eyes again. Kili was glaring
angrily at him now. “Don’t talk like that.”
“It’s true, though,” Fili said bitterly. “It’s not just individual people. It’s
entire cultures. Everything dies. Dwarrowdelf died. The six other dwarf lines
died. We don’t even remember their names anymore.” He felt the rain start to
fall within his mind. “We’re dying out too, Kili.”
Kili’s frown deepened. He suddenly looked so much older than he was. Then he
looked back at Fili and demanded quietly, “Why do you have to think like that?”
“Because it’s the truth,” said Fili. “When you were out pulling pranks on the
children of men, I was in the library. I read about the way we used to be.
There were so many of us, once. Durin’s folk ruled with as much power as the
elves or the men. But time… Oh, Kili. Time goes by and it reduces us to ashes.
Our halls crumble and our mountains are worn away. Our underground rivers dry
up and hope fades. And our people… Oh, our people… We are already ashes,
brother. We were scattered when Smaug took Erebor. Thorin’s collected us again
and now he is bringing us home, but he has brought us back to an urn for an
entire race of people. Do you know what Erebor is now? It’s a tomb. It’s a
gilded tomb for wealthy kings who cannot take their gold into the afterlife."
He sighed heavily. "Thorin nearly broke the line by loving me. But because
Dwalin took me, Thorin may yet find a mate who would bring him sons. If not,
his line will end with him. We may be Thrain’s grandchildren, but the line is
broken with us.”
“Why, because it is our mother and not our father who is of Durin’s Line?”
“No,” Fili shook his head. “Well, maybe. But more than that, it’s because she’s
the youngest. We’re Thorin’s nephews, not his sons. He may never have heirs
beyond us. And because I am mated to Dwalin, I will never have a child. The
line of Durin will be broken, Kili. Our people will fade into dust.”
“Oh, Fili…” Miserably, Kili sank down onto the mattress and there he had curled
up against Fili’s chest. When he spoke again, his words were half muffled by
the blankets. “When did you become so hopeless? Did he do this to you? You were
never like this before him.”
Fili looked down at his brother and combed his fingers through Kili's dark
hair. Like that, Kili looked like a sad little dwarfling. It was strange for
Kili to look like that, for he had been such a happy child. Between the two of
them, Fili had always been the more reserved and contemplative, but as a fully
mated adult, that seriousness had spiraled into a deep desolation that still
dragged his spirit down. It was easy to blame everything on his mate, for
Dwalin had been a critical part of his current sorrow, but Fili knew, in his
heart and not in his mind, that his slow decay into melancholia had all started
three quarters of a century ago.
“Do you remember Father?” Fili asked quietly.
Kili pulled himself back up. He gave a heavy sniffle and shook his head.
“I do,” Fili murmured. “Only a little, but I remember him from before he died.
He looked like me. Or, well, like I used to. But he had your eyes. He was a
singer. I remember him singing with Thorin before he went off to die.”
“Oh, Fili…” Kili sniffled softly. “I’m sorry.”
“When they brought his body back, I watched as they prepared him for the tomb.
I thought he was asleep at first, but then Thorin told me that Father had been
killed.”
Kili exhaled in quiet shock. “Thorin told you that? You were seven, Fili. What
was he thinking?”
“You were there, too,” Fili countered. “You just don’t remember. You were too
little. I don’t think we shy away from death the way the big folks do. It’s
part of raising us as fighters. We learn not to fear death from a young age so
that we can glorify those who fall in battle.”
Kili dropped his jaw. “Are we really so heartless?”
“We’re dwarves, Kili. It’s what we do.”
“No, that’s stupid.” Kili shook his head stubbornly. “You can teach dwarves to
become warriors without showing your babies their fathers’ corpses.”
Fili gave a low sigh. “It is rather horrifying when you put it that way,” he
admitted.
Fili looked back at his brother and saw that Kili hadn’t stopped scowling at
him. The look on Kili’s face brought a certain question to Fili’s mind. As much
as Kili had always thought he was rather dainty-faced and ugly, with his
current obstinate frown and his teary, expressive eyes, he looked so very much
like a dwarf.
“What do you think makes dwarves different from other races?”
The furrow in Kili’s brow deepened. He chewed on his lip in thought, then
shrugged. “I dunno.”
“I think it’s that we want so much out of life,” said Fili. “We want
everything. We want gold and we want power. But we also want to make things. We
want to design and build and make beautiful things that last as long as the
stone. And then we fight to the death to defend what we have and what we have
made, because once it's destroyed, it's never coming back. Stone cannot regrow
or heal.” His heart weighed heavily in his chest at the implications. “Do you
know what that leads to? That leads to greed. We’re greedy for life, Kili.
We’re so greedy it kills us.”
He closed his eyes in despair. As he did so, the bedroom dissolved into the
vision of his forest. There in the wild beneath the grey and weeping sky, Fili
found himself wandering alone through the world-weary trees. He hung his head
and watched his feet as the rain came down around him. His bare, bony toes and
his thin ankles were dirtied by the earth and decay. His hands at his sides
were scarred and mostly useless, and his body was broken on the inside. He had
decayed too. Now he was a mere shadow of who he had once been before Dwalin’s
decimating greed. And now, being skinny and crippled and permanently altered,
he would never fully recover from what Dwalin had done to him.
But that was okay, Fili decided. He had found a way of living with being
stripped of everything. In raping him, Dwalin had taken away the very thing
that made Fili a dwarf. He had taken away his desire to live, if not his life
in practice. But desire was a feeling, and Fili had those again, and if the
forest was his feelings and he was a vagabond in the trees, perhaps one day in
his lonesome wanderings, he would find a new reason for living.
But that wasn't a necessary thing right now. Fili had everything he needed
right here. Here in the sparse room he shared with his brother, he had food and
water and a place to sleep. And above all, he had Kili. His brother loved him
despite everything, and he would never leave him alone to the thunderstorm. And
though Dwalin might at times continue to hurt Fili through the bond, the storm
could never pull down the sun. That was all Fili would ever need to live now. A
little rain, a lot of sunlight, and above all else, just love. And so, despite
his continuing sorrow, he found himself in an odd place of contentment with the
poverty of his soul.
The thought was both freeing and depressing, for it meant he was no longer a
dwarf.
When he said as much to Kili, his brother was quiet for a long time. Then Kili
asked, “What are you instead?”
“I don’t know,” Fili admitted. “They don’t make creatures like what I’ve
become.”
“Aye, they do.” Kili gave another soft sniff and brushed his fingers through
Fili’s hair. “If you were made, you were made exactly as who you were meant to
be. And you spent your whole life making yourself strong. Don't convince
yourself that you're not still strong because of what happened with Dwalin.
But... I guess like what happened with him, there are some things that we don’t
ever get to choose. Your race is one of those things. You can't choose that or
change that any more than you can choose or change your brother. But you know
what?" Kili smiled fondly at him. "If I could have chosen my family, I’d want
you to be in it. And I’m a dwarf, Fili. I’m not a very good one, but that’s
what I am. And you’re my brother, so I guess that makes you one, too.”
Fili couldn’t help but return Kili’s small smile with one of his own. “What
makes you a dwarf, skinny?”
Kili grinned a little at the old insult, especially because he was the heavier
one now. He shoved Fili gently in the shoulder. “Like I said, I don't know.
I’ve been trying to figure that out for seventy-seven years, and I don’t think
I’m going to know for a long time still. Maybe I’ll never know. But I think I’m
okay with that.”
Fili was silent as he absorbed the implications of Kili’s words. Something
about Kili’s words made him feel so much better now. He couldn’t quite put his
finger on it, and some old, questioning part of him wanted to know the answer.
But maybe Kili had the right idea. Maybe the lesson could wait for another
time. And so, because he was out of things to say, Fili lay back on the
mattress and looked up at the ceiling, at peace.
Then he reached behind his head. He picked up his pillow, turned it over in his
hands, and then suddenly and quite unexpectedly thumped his brother in the head
with it.
Kili gave a startled gasp and his eyes went wide at the attack.
“Since when’d you grow up?” Fili grinned.
Kili bristled as if offended. “Who says I’m a grown-up, huh?” Then he jumped up
from the bed and screwed up his face in an exaggeratedly solemn frown. He gave
a low growl and puffed up his chest and when he spoke again, he sounded exactly
like their uncle. “Being an adult means being responsible! No fun is allowed,
especially pillow fights! You’ll get feathers everywhere!" When Fili suppressed
his chuckle, Kili sucked in a heavy hiss through his nostrils and trembled with
mock rage. “Are you laughing at me!? Are you, Fili, son of Dis, laughing at
your KING!?”
Then Fili was indeed laughing. It almost hurt to do so, but he still remembered
how. Then, as he heard Kili crack up and jump back into the bed next to him,
Fili felt the sun come out again through the clouds. He laughed until his sides
ached and tears started to leak from his eyes. And then he buried his face in
his brother’s shirt and finally let himself embrace the freedom of youth that
he had squandered in the name of a legacy.
It felt good, so very good. Nothing had felt better than to laugh after being
mirthless for months. And when Fili finally could get control of his laughter,
he felt better than he had ever felt before. He still had it in him, it seemed,
to feel joy and contentment at the act of being alive.
Eventually he settled down and was left in a state of quiet, tired contentment.
He smiled at Kili. His brother grinned back at him. They curled up next to each
other as closely as they could. All lingering tension between them was
forgotten, and all they needed was the touch and love of each other.
Fili looked fondly at his brother and brushed Kili’s long hair off the fresh
new burn scar. A funny thought occurred to him then that took him right back
into his forest. By now, the rain had stopped. The sky was crystal clear and
blue above the canopy. The branches and mosses were dripping from the downpour,
but now in the sunlight, the water glistened like gemstones. Fili looked down
at himself. His clothes clung to his skin and his feet were still covered in
mud, but at least when he pressed his hand to his sternum, he could feel his
heart beating calmly within his chest.
Everything was the same, but it was also different. The rain was a sadness, but
it also brought life to the woods. Because of the rain, the forest grew into
something organic and lush and full of a living richness that the most opulent
dwarvish halls could never hope to capture. The halls of his people were made
strong, and they were built to last. But they never grew beyond what they had
been designed to be, nor grew wild and free with the weather like the
resilient, living woods. Though ancient stone was built to last, it could be
ground into dust. Once that happened to a creature made of stone, he would
never return to life.
Fili had died once. The stone prince of dwarves whom Fili had once been had
died some time ago. His body had been eaten and his bones ground into dust by a
monster in a bed in Laketown. But now, he was alive again. He was healing as
something new. Like the forest that grows up from the dust of ages past, Fili
was coming back to life. And though he knew how to be mountain, not a forest,
at least he had been reborn.
Suddenly, a wave of tremendous gratitude washed through him. He stepped into
the sunlight that filtered through the mist left after the rainstorm. He spread
his thin arms out and basked in the warmth of the sun. He savored its glow upon
his skin and the singing of the birds as the forest came to life around him.
There amongst the trees, he had the freeing thought that maybe, just maybe, he
could learn to live with the rain.
***** Chapter 29 *****
It did not take long for Fili to discover that it was far easier to say that he
would learn to live with the rain than to actually accomplish that goal. The
rain turned out to be the easy part. It was the storms that followed that were
truly devastating.
Fili’s stormy forest had swiftly become a frequent part of his existence. He
saw it often when he closed his eyes. Occasionally, he would even see it
intruding into the real world as a crack in the stone or an intrusive vine in
the corner. For a little while, he had taken to asking his brother if the
visions were really there. Kili always told him no, but every time he did so,
the look of concern etched itself deeper into Kili’s features. Based on Kili’s
reaction, Fili began to suspect that he was slowly losing his mind. So he
stopped asking the question, and gave himself the benefit of the doubt that it
was all just in his head.
That was hardly a helpful thought. Though he knew it was in his mind and thus
he could convince himself sometimes to see it as the beautiful place it could
be, he still knew little about surviving in the woods, and the unpredictability
of his new world left him as frightened as a real forest of nightmares. The
sweeping trees could grow up in his thoughts at a whim, as if determined to
catch him off-guard. The forest snuck up on him at inopportune times, much like
Dwalin’s random violence had once been used to crack his resolve. It was
working again. The terror that came with the randomness was beginning to set
Fili on edge, and each time the forest came back it was darker and more
menacing than the last.
But as frightening as the trees were and as dark and thick as the vines grew,
those were nothing in comparison to the storms. In those times, when Dwalin
came looking for him, there was nothing Fili could do except seek shelter from
the terrifying thunder. When he could find them, Fili took shelter in caves or
in gulleys or other places where the storm was less terrible. But this was a
forest of his mind, and Dwalin was in his mind. After he had fully submitted to
his mate, Dwalin had started altering Fili’s very thoughts.
In his forest, Fili could never stay in once place for long before Dwalin would
find him. Fili would sometimes venture out of a cave for berries or green food
and would come back to find the cave destroyed. Sometimes he would get caught
in the storm and would take shelter beneath a tree, but the lightning would
decimate the forest around him as he shivered in the cold of the rain.
When he could no longer stand it, he finally broke down and told Kili about it.
His brother likened it to healing from an arrow wound without removing the tip.
If the wound closed up around the arrowhead, more damage might be done to try
to get the thing out than just to leave it within the flesh.
Fili took the analogy a step further.
“If a piece of foul iron in stitched up inside a body,” he said bleakly, “it
soon starts to fester. The wound begins to rot. Then the infection spreads and
poisons the blood. It kills the mind.”
“Oh, Fili…” Kili wept softly against his brother’s shoulder. He was running out
of words beyond his tears.
* * * * *
It was in the middle of the night when Kili awoke to the sound of fury. He
carefully sat up in bed so as not to disturb his brother. Then he listened to
the distant screaming.
The voice was Thorin’s. It was coming from beyond the apartment.
Quietly, Kili checked to ensure that Fili was deep in slumber. Then he eased
himself off the mattress and slipped out of the bedroom and through the bare,
cold sitting room into the hallway.
Out here, the bellowing was louder. He could hear things smashing from within
Thorin’s apartment. Gloin leaned warily on the wall outside Thorin’s door,
chest heaving and fingers tightly gripping his battleaxe. When he noticed Kili
there in his nightclothes, Gloin gave him a fierce shake of his head to warn
him not to go in. Kili approached him anyways.
“What’s going on?” Kili whispered when he got to Gloin. “Is everything all
right?”
“No, lad.” Gloin gave a low, furious growl. “Nothing’s all right. That damned
hobbit, he betrayed us!”
“What!?” Kili stared at Gloin in shock. It was impossible.
“The wee bastard stole the Arkenstone and then got away!”
Kili’s stomach plummeted in his belly. He was suddenly awash in questions and
emotions ranging from disbelief to rage to dread.
“Why? How? What are we gonna do? Oh, no…”
“That stone meant everything – everything – to the throne!” Gloin spat. “I
don’t even know how he did it. You mark my words, lad. He was probably workin’
for them foul elves the entire time.”
Kili’s jaw dropped at that. He stuttered as he tried to come up with a retort,
but he had no words anymore amidst the thickening mess of his emotions and
thoughts. They were threatening to overwhelm him again. But then up through the
midst of it all, a single concern rose to the top. He grabbed hold of it.
“Don’t tell Fili,” he said suddenly. “He can’t know anything.”
Gloin was suddenly perplexed. “What does Fili have to do with anything?”
“Dwalin can read his thoughts,” Kili whispered. “If Fili knows about the
Arkenstone, and it’s outside of Erebor, Dwalin will hunt Bilbo down and steal
the jewel.”
A look of horror crossed over Gloin’s ruddy face.
“If Dwalin gets the stone,” Kili hissed, “he’ll be unstoppable.”
Now Gloin went ashen. He suddenly took a step towards Thorin’s door.
“No, fool!” Kili slammed Gloin against the wall to stop him. “Don’t tell Thorin
right now, he’ll kill you! Let me tell him later.” Kili’s mind scrambled to
come up with a plan for how he was going to do that, but his thoughts were
muddled by the sting of betrayal by the little, seemingly harmless Halfling.
“Don’t breathe a word to Thorin. Or to Fili. You understand? Fili can know
nothing!”
Gloin gave a gulp. But then he eventually nodded. “All right,” he acquiesced
gruffly.
Kili made to give him something of a response, but in his flustered state it
turned out to be more of a wordless noise. That was a sign that he was done
here. So he gave Gloin a lackluster slap on the spaulder and padded off down
the hall, in shock and in worry and in a growing sense of gloom.
Maybe the dwarves were doomed after all.
Maybe Fili’s conclusion about the fate of their kind had, in all its
bitterness, been true.
* * * * *
In the small, sparse bedroom that had become the rooting ground of Fili’s
forest, time slowed down until the hours passed like ages.
The forest was beginning to dominate Fili’s thoughts. He saw it every time he
closed his eyes and many times when he had them open.
He was coming home to live forever in the trees.
And in his dark forest, the storms were getting worse.
Fili had always found it hard to fight off Dwalin’s intrusions. But now,
something had changed. He had absolutely no resistance when Dwalin came into
his mind. It reminded him of a threat that Dwalin had made to him once – he had
wanted to turn Fili into a limbless, toothless sack of warmth that could not
fight back against the taking. But now, Dwalin did not need to do that to
Fili’s body. He had done it to his mind. Dwalin could slip easily into Fili now
whenever he wanted. There inside his mate, Dwalin plundered Fili’s thoughts and
his memories. Then he ate them. He grew fat off of Fili’s mind and savored
every sweet bite.
But that was only when Fili was awake. When he slept, his world was entirely
different.
Dwalin’s presence in Fili’s sleeping mind took the form of dreams. When Fili
slept, Dwalin was not a thunderstorm. He was himself – his big, broad-
shouldered, bald and tattooed self, and his menacing blue eyes burned with a
lust for treasure. And Fili, as his treasure, was kept in a cold and windowless
cell where there was little to do except wait before his mate to come for him.
Dwalin always came for him. And Dwalin was always brutal. But even during the
unspeakably, impossibly violent acts of Fili’s nightmares, it was clear that
Dwalin no longer really desired the gold that he had claimed. He had grown
bored with his plaything. Now he wanted to play with something new.
Dwalin wanted mithril.
And Dwalin always got what he wanted.
To do it, he tried using Fili’s body at first. During the nightmares, when Fili
was least in control, Dwalin would slip unbidden into Fili’s mind and force him
from his sleep into a state of painfully needy arousal. Whenever it happened,
Kili, like the stupid and predictable little boy that Dwalin believed him to
be, would pounce upon his brother and try to hold him down until the need
passed.
It worked. At Dwalin’s command, Fili often managed to squirm himself up against
Kili until Dwalin could bring Fili to climax there in his clothing against his
brother’s body. But through it all, Kili endured, unbroken. He was far more
resilient than Dwalin had initially thought, and far more creative in his
problem solving than Dwalin had imagined.
After a few incidences, Kili got sick of holding Fili down only to be molested.
Instead, he took to tying Fili’s hands together at night. Then, after self-
inflicted rope burns had appeared on Fili’s wrists, Kili had brought in Ori to
fit Fili for a modified jacket whose long sleeves could be tied around the
back. Then he helped Fili into the jacket each night before they went to sleep.
Then Kili would endure the sounds of Fili’s nightmares as the long nights wore
on.
“I’m sorry, Fi,” Kili kept telling Fili. “I’m so sorry I have to do this.”
When Dwalin felt like possessing him, Fili would struggle and scream and pull
in vain at the restrictive garment, trying to get his hands on Kili. But when
Dwalin tired and left Fili alone, Fili was grateful for the jacket and the
safety it afforded his brother and himself.
Fili often wept after Dwalin was finished with him. When he did, Kili would
kiss his short, shameful hair. Kili would embrace Fili through the jacket and
tell Fili that he was loved. Kili’s deep kindness made Fili hurt all the more,
for it was Kili’s large heart and his youth that made him trusting and
vulnerable. He was the perfect prize for Dwalin, and Dwalin would not stop
until he had what he wanted. So for Kili’s own safety, Fili finally tried to
push his brother away.
“He wants you, Kili,” Fili told him one night when he was more like himself.
His back was pressed against his brother’s chest and he could feel Kili’s
warmth through his layers. “He won’t be satisfied until he has us both. He can
use the bond to find you if you stay with me, and he’ll find a way to hurt you.
Please, just leave me. Please don’t let him take you like he took me.”
“You said it yourself, Fili.” Kili tightened his arms around his brother.
“He’ll never be satisfied.”
“Then leave now, before he takes you and destroys you too! Get yourself free.
Otherwise he’ll use me to wear you down until he can find us, then he’ll take
you. He can do that.”
Kili refused to budge from his spot on the bed. Then he whispered, determined,
“I’m not going anywhere.”
* * * * *
Less than a day had passed since Bilbo’s betrayal when Thorin barged into the
bedroom uninvited. He was followed by the brothers Oin and Gloin. His fury was
under control now, but Kili could sense that it would only take a thin scratch
to his veneer to let it out.
“Kili,” he barked. “Get up and dressed. Now!”
Kili obeyed. He glanced at Fili as he scrambled out of the bed. His brother
gave a soft gasp as if to say, don’t leave me.
“Fili, I’ll be right back,” he reassured his brother. Fili swallowed, but then
gave him a brief, scared nod. Kili got to his feet, quickly scrambled into
something decent, and then stood before his uncle and met Thorin’s eyes. “Can
Oin and Gloin stay here?”
Thorin glanced briefly at Fili. If he felt anything beyond the lingering pain
of Bilbo’s betrayal, he did not show it.
“Oin, you stay,” he snapped. “Gloin, with us.”
Then Thorin was leaving.
With one backward glance at his brother and the old healer, Kili followed
Thorin and Gloin through the hallway. They came to Thorin’s chamber and, once
inside, Kili’s eyes widened at the destruction his uncle had wrought.
The room was hardly recognizable. Every stick of furniture had been shattered.
Each plush velvet cushion had been shredded and now lay strewn about the room
in a mix of feathers, batting, and destroyed luxury. Somehow Thorin had even
managed to crack a stone carving on the massive fireplace. The head of the
stone dwarvish king had been lost in the mess.
Kili followed his uncle through a door into another room. About half of this
room was still salvageable, but the once-beautiful parlor still bore the proof
of Thorin’s unbridled fury. Then at the end of this room, they went through
another door into a passageway that led into Thorin’s study.
The long, tall room of fire was untouched by Thorin’s rage. Seven dwarves of
the original company were already there, seated at a massive oaken council
table. They all seemed as aware of and unnerved by Thorin’s fury as Kili was.
Thorin took up his seat at the head of the table and Gloin sat next to Bombur
towards the middle. Then Thorin thrust his hand to the empty chair to his
right. Kili got the message and took the seat.
“I have terrible news.” Thorin wasted no time in getting to the heart of the
matter. “Bilbo stole the Arkenstone and brought it to our enemies.”
The table erupted in a loud roar of shock, anger, and betrayal.
“ENOUGH!” Everyone went silent at Thorin’s bellow. He glanced briefly from
Balin to his left and Kili to his right. Then he spoke again to the rest of the
company. “Bilbo found the stone in the treasury more than a week ago. He hid
it, snuck out when he saw his chance, and then had the nerve to come back and
tell me what he had done.”
“Where is it?” Bofur asked, horrified.
Thorin let out a low growl. “He took it to Thranduil!”
The table erupted again in groans.
“The execrable traitor!” Dori cried. “We were fools to dare to trust him!”
“Not we!” Thorin snapped. The company went quiet again. Thorin ground his teeth
and glared bitterly at the tabletop. “I myself take full responsibility for
what happened. I will also take responsibility for what we must do next.” After
a long and pensive pause, he finally said, “We are going to war.”
Gloin gave a jubilant growl. His armor jingled as he slammed a fist to the
table. Across from him, Ori let out a low shudder. He dropped his forehead to
the tabletop where he buried his head beneath his arms. Dori leaned in and
whispered something inaudible in his brother’s ear. Nori smirked and slipped
his hands under the table.
Thorin ignored them all.
“You dwarves have proven yourselves to be loyal, willing, and capable members
of this company. I am going to share something with you now that must not leave
this chamber. The future of our kingdom is in grave jeopardy. Elves and men are
now encamped upon the slopes of Erebor, searching for the secret door. Bilbo
knows where to find it. He has already given the Arkenstone to our enemy. If
they breach these walls, they will slaughter each and every one of us and take
the throne.”
Bifur grumbled something in garbled Khuzdul. Thorin nodded briefly.
“Indeed, we need reinforcements,” he said in answer to Bifur’s question. “I
sent for Dain Ironfoot the day we arrived. He has promised an army of veteran
fighters to help defend our kingdom.”
“Why then is he not here?” Balin asked Thorin with a frown. “The Iron Hills are
close. Dain should have been here within two weeks, but it’s been more than a
month.”
“I know!” Thorin bellowed. Then he exhaled heavily, letting off steam from his
boiling rage. “There is nothing to be done about Dain’s delay. He arrives on
his own schedule and on his own terms. We are lucky that he has even agreed to
fight for us. Until he arrives, all we can do is guard that secret door and
pray that we are not infiltrated. But when he does arrive, we will have the
chance to defend what is ours.”
A low grumble of assent went around the table. The hairs on the back of Kili’s
neck rose. Fili’s words about greed and the slow death of their people rang in
his ears. He swallowed slowly and looked nervously up at his uncle. Then he
summoned up his courage and addressed his king.
“If we win this battle," Kili asked, "what are we going to do about the
future?”
Thorin was quiet for a moment. He frowned and looked down and the table. Then
he looked back at the company and addressed them as if they were not miners,
nor tinkerers, nor aging, washed up warriors. He addressed them as lords of
Durin’s Folk.
“You dwarves are heroes. You came when I called for aid. And if we win, when we
win, you will be all be given titles, places of honor, and roles of leadership
among our people.” As he spoke, he met the eyes of each and every one of his
companions. When his eyes met Kili’s, they lingered for a moment, and an
unreadable expression passed over his face. Then it was gone. “I intend to
survive this battle as King Under the Mountain. I have renamed Kili as my
successor, and when he is of age, I will take him as my mate and together we
will rebuild the glory of our homeland.”
Kili sank in his chair. The humiliation burned in his neck and face. The rest
of the company had gone silent.
“And Fili?” Bofur finally asked. “Wha’ happens to him after… ye know.”
“Fili will live out his days as a ward of the crown,” Thorin said. He had grown
quiet. “What happened to him has left him unfit for leadership. He cannot
fight. His mind is overthrown. But he is a dwarf and a son of Erebor, and he
deserves a place among our people.”
Most of the company stayed quiet. Then Gloin muttered under his breath, “For
the best, poor lad.” A few of the other dwarves nodded solemnly.
Kili winced. He couldn’t stand it anymore.
“Uncle, there’s a problem.” Kili leaned in to Thorin and lowered his voice so
that only his king could hear. “If you take me as your mate, you’ll never have
a child. You’ll break the line of succession.”
“I know.” Thorin fixed Kili with a weary expression and shook his head sadly.
Then he whispered, “I would rather know that you are safe than risk you to the
same fate as Fili in order to preserve a dying bloodline.”
At that, Kili was defeated. He sighed heavily and let his head fall into his
hands. He felt the tears returning, but he sniffed them back. This was not the
place for openness with his feelings.
When Thorin went on again, Kili was no longer listening. He was lost in his
heart again. Thorin, in his age and stubbornness and experience, would never
understand what he had just done. In trying to protect both his kingdom and his
nephew, Thorin had denied Kili the freedom to choose his own destiny. Somehow,
he felt deeply and inexplicably violated by what Thorin had just told him. He
could not help but think then of his brother and the future that Dwalin had
stolen from Fili.
But still, even now, Kili had it easier than Fili. He still had his youth, and
for some time yet, he still had autonomy. And though he wouldn’t have it for
much longer, he had to use it now, for he was going to lose it forever when he
finally came of age.
He brought himself back to the conversation and spoke as soon as he could.
“There’s another matter that concerns Dwalin and Fili.” The company quieted and
turned to him. “They are mated. Dwalin can sense what Fili senses. If Fili
learns about the Arkenstone…”
Thorin cut him off with a low, thundering growl. “Then Dwalin will act as a
free agent to try to find the stone for himself! Dammit! In Mirkwood, I
discovered that Dwalin was using Fili to betray me. He is after my crown.”
Kili looked at Thorin in shock. It struck him then that there was far more
going on than he had ever anticipated. He suddenly felt so stupid.
“But you disinherited Fili,” Nori said suspiciously, narrowing his eyes as he
leaned back in his chair. “How can Dwalin take the throne if his mate is no
longer your heir?”
“If that uncouth barbarian finds the Arkenstone,” Dori sniffed, “He will have
every justification in his mind to take the throne.”
“’e might also ally ‘imself with Thranduil,” Bombur suggested with a heavy
smack of his lips. Kili stared at him. Even now, Bombur had managed to sneak
food into Thorin’s study. “Enemy o’ me enemy is me friend, tha’ sorta thing,
aye?”
“Unlikely,” Thorin said sharply. “Dwalin remembers Thranduil’s betrayal as
acutely as the rest of us. He may find an ally in that despicable master of
Laketown and with the bowman who killed the dragon. But I suspect that he will
act on his own. Power has driven him mad.”
“What are we going to do about him?” As soon as Kili had asked it, he suddenly
regretted it. He already knew the answer in his heart, but Fili’s words about
the rain and the forest suddenly came back to haunt him.
“Dwalin is an enemy now,” Thorin said quietly. “He is a traitor and a rapist,
and according to our laws, he must die. But more than that, he has wronged me
personally. I will handsomely reward any dwarf who brings me his head.”
Balin gave a soft groan and made to say something. But just then, the hallway
door to Thorin’s study banged open and Oin rushed in, breathless.
“Master Thorin!” Oin bellowed.
Thorin shot to his feet. “Is it Fili!?”
“Dain Ironfoot – he’s arrived!” Oin hadn’t seemed to hear Thorin’s question.
“Fili saw ‘im through Dwalin!”
“Dain’s here?” Thorin’s jaw dropped.
“We’re saved!” Someone yelled. “Haha!”
Kili startled as the dwarves around the table erupted for a third time, this
time in cheers. The company was boisterous with relief and hope for the future
they saw once more. Only at the head of the table was their joy not shared.
Balin sat staring at his hands, expressionless. Thorin was shouting over the
bluster to be heard. And Kili, he was filled with deep despair not just for
Fili, but now for himself as well.
The future of Erebor meant a life at Thorin’s side. Kili’s future would be as
Thorin’s heir, as his confidant, and as his unfree, unequal, and ultimately
unloved mate.
“Calm yerselves, lads!”
Kili looked up as Bofur’s voice cut through the commotion. The dwarves all
quieted down and settled back into their seats. Heartened, the companions were
all staring eagerly at their king, awaiting further instruction.
Thorin pressed a fist to his mouth in thought. Kili watched his piercing blue
eyes move as he forged his plans. Then when Thorin spoke again, it was with the
authority of a warrior king who had earned his right to the title.
“Oin, get Fili dressed and bring him here. Balin and Kili, you stay. Gloin, to
the secret door - bring Dain to me as swiftly as you can.” Then Thorin looked
at the rest of the company and his eye took on a gleam of excitement. He
cracked a rare smile and seemed to swell with the prospect of glory. “The rest
of you dwarves go find yourselves weapons and armor. Take the best of the best.
We’re going to war!”
***** Chapter 30 *****
Chapter Notes
     Please note that this chapter contains explicit violence.
Fili stood beside his brother, behind and to the right of their uncle. His hand
was firmly clasped in Kili’s. Balin stood to Thorin’s left for the first time,
Fili imagined, in what must have been weeks. The four of them stood waiting in
Thorin’s opulent study. None spoke, but they all could sense the impending
arrival of their powerful cousin and his shrewd, enigmatic mate.
Fili had never been quite able to wrap his mind around Dain Ironfoot. Before
Fili had been mated, Dain had been the only dwarf outside of Thorin who had
ever succeeded at intimating him. For that as well as his strong leadership of
the dwarves in the Iron Hills, Fili both respected Dain and feared him, and
Fili knew well enough not to find himself on the wrong side of that particular
dwarf.
But that was before Dwalin. Now, with Dwalin inside him churning like a black
cloud of ash and fire, Fili was more than intimidated. He was absolutely
terrified. Dwalin was frightened, too, for Dain was a powerful warrior, but now
Dwalin expressed his fear by itching for a fight. Fili struggled to soothe his
mate, knowing that if it came to blows, he would be crushed in an instant. It
helped a little, but not much.
His heart seemed to skip a beat when he heard the low, distant pulse of dwarven
boots on stone. His dread mounted as the rhythmic sound drew nearer. His pulse
pounded faster and harder during the long crescendo until, suddenly, the
drumming ceased.
He held his breath. Dain was just outside.
Three loud, heavy fistfalls fell against the wood. Fili watched as his uncle
straightened his shoulders and broadened his stance. Thorin Oakenshield planted
his fists on his sword belt. Then as King in his ancestral homeland, with a
rumbling voice he commanded, “Enter!”
The door swung open and three massive, armored dwarves sauntered proudly into
the study. The biggest of them was a grey-haired warrior whose beard shone like
mithril in the firelight. His luxurious, elaborate braids made him look like a
king of old Erebor, but the long scar that cut beneath his left eye was proof
that Dain Ironfoot had not inherited his power. Instead, he had earned it
through the might of war. The other two dwarves were just as proud and heavily
armored, and though these ones wore helms that covered their faces, Fili
already knew that one of them was a woman.
Dain left his companions by the fireplace and strolled up to within a few
inches of Thorin. It was too close for fighting, but just the perfect distance
to intimidate. There, Dain towered over his king. For a brief moment, their
piercing blue eyes met in a dangerous glare between two hated rivals. Then
suddenly Dain burst into a bellow of laughter and swept Thorin into a bear hug.
“Cousin!” Dain hoisted Thorin like a stiff board off his feet. Then he plopped
him back down in a fluster and headbutted his kin in the forehead. As Thorin
recovered, Dain dropped to his knee and took Thorin’s hand in his gauntlet and
kissed the knuckles of his king. “You finally have my fealty, you stuffy goat.”
Thorin inhaled in a low growl at the insult. It was clearly all that he could
do to restrain his burning rage. Dain noticed, and he guffawed on his way back
to his feet. Then he thumped Thorin with a gauntleted palm hard on the
shoulder.
“Bah, lighten up.” He turned suddenly to Thorin’s nephews and dropped into a
playful crouch. “Kili!”
“Mister Dain,” Kili said as he let go of Fili’s hand. Then he grabbed his
cousin by the elbows. “We’re glad you’re here.”
Dain’s grin faltered. Then he dropped his hands to his sides and stood once
more.
Fili remembered the last time Kili and Dain Ironfoot had seen each other. Kili
had given a hearty peal of laughter and had rushed up to Dain, all sense of
ceremony forgotten. Dain had caught his young cousin as Kili had jumped at him,
and they had sparred playfully until Dain had clutched his chest through his
armor and had let out a loud groan, feigning agony. Then they had both
descended into laughter until they had finally calmed.
But now, Kili was all uncharacteristic seriousness. It broke Fili’s heart.
“That’s a beast of a scar, laddie.” Dain slapped a hand to the healed burn on
Kili’s cheek. He beamed again, this time with pride. “Well earned, hero. Well
earned.”
Thorin cleared his throat loudly. As he did, Kili turned back to his king, but
Dain ignored Thorin. He turned instead to Balin and the smile fell from his
face. Then he gave Balin something of a grim nod.
“Balin, hmm.” Dain held his distance as he addressed his elder. “My respects to
you for your loyalty. It can’t have been easy for you.”
“Thank you, cousin,” Balin said quietly.
Fili watched them. Despite the anxiety that Dain’s arrival had brought him, he
felt a pang of sorrow for Balin. He could not imagine how devastated Balin had
been by Dwalin’s actions. But Dwalin was remorseless. Through the bond, Fili
could sense that Dwalin believed Balin to be a traitor, and as Dwalin pushed
out Fili’s sense of sympathy, all Fili was left with was his inexplicable fear
of Dain.
It was only then that the Lord of the Iron Hills seemed to notice Fili. Dain’s
eyes widened and he cocked his head curiously.
Fili knew he must look a sight compared to the last time that he and Dain had
seen each other. It had been years ago, and Fili couldn’t yet braid his
moustache. But he had been heavier and more muscled, and his body had filled
out the rich fabrics like those which now hung loosely from his frame. Once,
Fili had stood proudly to his uncle’s right as his heir, and when larger-than-
life Dain had come barging up to meet him, Fili had held his ground. Then, he
had clasped his older cousin strongly by the arms and had given him his
courteous greetings. Now Fili felt small, so small. He lingered back in his
hiding place behind Thorin’s broad, protective shoulders. If he’d still had
shame in his heart, he would have felt it acutely right then. But all he felt
was dread and Dwalin’s jealousy.
“Fili.” Dain smiled once more, this time warmly. He barged past Thorin and
strolled up to Fili. Then he closed his hands gently on Fili’s shoulders and he
gave Fili a huge smile filled with broken white teeth. “It’s good to see you
whole.”
Fili’s fear had frozen him in place. Dain was huge. He towered over Fili just
like Dwalin did. The grasp of his monstrous, gauntleted hands on Fili’s slim
shoulders sent chills through his spine. Suddenly the combination of Dain’s
size, the position of his hands, and the way his blue eyes glittered dragged
Fili back to the time when he’d first been taken in the mouth. Fili’s heart
began to pound as Dwalin started seething.
Dain is not my mate, Fili thought frantically. He is not worthy to take what is
Dwalin’s!
Fili quickly reassured Dwalin that though Dain was just as strong, Dwalin would
never have to worry about Fili’s infidelity. That eased Dwalin’s discomfort. As
Dwalin relaxed inside him, Fili could finally get a grip on his panic. He
swallowed down his fear and the remembered bitterness of seed that had grown in
the back of his mouth. Then he forced himself to return Dain’s smile with a
trembling nod.
Dain’s smile faltered and his eyes gave a brief, unreadable flicker. Then he
abruptly let Fili go and stepped back, out of the closeness and out of fighting
distance. Once he was in front of Thorin again, he finally turned his attention
to his king.
“Opted not to use the throne room, then?” Dain cocked an eyebrow knowingly at
Thorin’s scowl. “Still lookin’ for the stone, I take it.”
“The Arkenstone is… well, we will discuss it momentarily.” Thorin glanced
pointedly at the two dwarves who had followed Dain into the study. “That is,
when our meeting has officially commenced.”
“You won’t chase me off, Thorin.” Fili recognized the sharp, hissing tenor of
the helmeted dwarf who had spoken as Dain’s mate, Niris. He watched as the
warrior hooked two gauntleted hands upon the brim of her green helm and pulled
it off, shaking her head wildly. Niris threw her massive mane of orange curls
about her like fire, looking as regal and fierce as a queen of the battlefield.
It was an illusion. She fought her battles with numbers. “You know I will still
hear everything.”
“Very well,” Thorin growled. He tossed a nod to the other guard. “Do I know
you?” When the helmeted dwarf shook his head, Thorin said gruffly, “Then you’ll
wait outside.”
The helmeted dwarf gave a deep bow. He backed away from his king and his
commanders until he was at the door. Then he turned and disappeared out into
the hallway.
Kili glanced back at his brother. Fili swallowed, still shaken. As if sensing
Fili’s thoughts, Kili frowned a little. Then he mouthed silently, Dwalin?
Fili gave him a shaky nod.
Thorin had noticed the exchange. He fixed Fili with a pensive look. “Fili,”
Thorin said slowly, “I think you had best wait outside, too.”
“Bah, nonsense,” Dain said gruffly. When Thorin made to explain, Dain cut him
off and addressed Fili directly. “You’re a prince, and we all know how strong
that mind o’ yours is. You’ll stay here for the meetin’. Grab an ale if it
helps.”
“No.” Thorin shook his head. “Under the circumstances, Fili should not be a
part of the meeting.”
“Why, you…” Dain lowered his head as if preparing to smash into his cousin like
an angry ram. Instead, he thrust a metal-encased finger into Thorin’s face,
managing to keep his fury in check. “If you were not my king and my kin, I
would beat you bloody for the insult.”
“Dain, wait.” As Fili spoke, Dain turned suddenly to him. It was as if Dain
hadn’t expected Fili to still have speech. Fili cleared the persistent rasp in
his throat and shook his head. “He’s right. I can’t be here.”
He glanced at Kili, who got the message. Kili offered his arm and Fili took it.
Then he let his brother help him hobble out of the study without another word.
* * * * *
Out in the hallway, Fili took a seat on an ornate stone bench beside the door
to Thorin’s study. Gloin had taken up his usual place in front of Thorin’s
door. Dain’s unnamed guard stood on the opposite side of the hall. Gloin stared
suspiciously at the guard, but the stranger took no notice of the warrior.
Instead, he stared at Fili.
Fili tried to ignore him by sitting quietly and looking down at his hands,
folded in his lap. It didn’t help. He was still so uneasy after what had just
happened in the study. He hated being so fearful. It was such a tiring,
exhaustive emotion. Of all the possible feels that could have grown up first in
his forest, it had to be sadness, helplessness, and fear before anything else.
Dwalin had kept Fili living in terror for months. It had become a fundamental
part of his being, to be so terribly afraid. Even now, the soft and repetitive
clink of Gloin’s armor was enough to set Fili’s nerves on edge. His unease was
only amplified by what had happened in the study and the stranger’s continued
presence in the hall.
Fili hazarded a glance at the stranger. He was still staring. Fili hated when
people stared.
“Do you have a problem?”
The stranger cocked his helmeted head. Then he said in a low, hoarse whisper,
“I bear a message for you, Fili son of Erili.”
Fili perked up at the paternal twist to his name. That wasn’t frightening,
though it was certainly strange. Fili was never, ever called by his father’s
name, for his mother bore the higher birthright. With his tiny violation of
established convention, the stranger had banished Fili’s fear and captured
Fili’s attention.
“Gloin, leave us please.”
Gloin shifted his weight nervously. “Ah… sorry, lad. I’m not s’posed to leave
you alone.”
“You will never help your prince heal if you insist upon treating him like a
prisoner,” the stranger said sharply.
Gloin gave an angry growl at the perceived insult. “How dare you!” He thrust
his chest towards the stranger and brandished his battleaxe.
“Gloin, don’t!”
Fili leapt to his feet and threw himself between the two warriors. His knee
gave out with a burst of pain and he had to grab Gloin’s armor to keep from
falling. Gloin caught Fili quickly and hauled him back onto his feet. Once Fili
was upright, he gave a swift shake of his head.
“I need this message,” he said. “Please do not let this come to bloodshed.”
Gloin gave a huff, but then remembered that this was his prince, not his enemy.
Anger deflated, he shook his head. Then he said tersely, “It’s been commanded.
Sorry.”
“By Thorin?”
Gloin said nothing at first. But then he suddenly looked like a big rouge
rabbit in a trap. His eyes started to dart about nervously and his face went as
red as his beard. Fili knew then that it hadn’t been Thorin who had given Gloin
his charge.
“By whom!?”
Gloin dropped his eyes to the floor. Then softly, he confessed, “by Kili.”
* * * * *
Kili closed the door behind him as he returned to the study. Already, Thorin
had taken up his seat at the head of the long council table near the hearth.
Dain took the seat to Thorin’s left, a position of power that was second to the
King. His mate sat in the chair beside him. Balin, who was Thorin’s most
trusted adviser, took the second seat to his king’s right. Kili was puzzled for
a moment, but then as Thorin met his eyes and gestured at the empty chair
beside him, Kili remembered that the heir always sat to the right of a king in
his kingdom. He gave a heavy sigh and started for the chair.
His feet seemed to drag as he made his way to his seat. Nothing good happened
in that seat. As he moved, he had the thought that he shouldn’t even be there.
The few recent, grueling strategy lessons with Thorin and all his skipped
schooling could have never prepared him for this. Fili had trained for nearly
eighty years to be a ruler. But here was Kili, an up-jumped second brother,
expected to hold his own in a political discussion with four of the most
powerful dwarves in all of Durin’s Folk. He wasn’t up to the task. He felt he’d
be lucky if he got out of the room without pissing himself.
Finally Kili got to his chair and sat down heavily in it. He didn’t know what
to do with his hands so he laid them flat on the table. Then he folded them in
his lap. Then finally, he sat on them and waited for someone to speak.
Thorin cleared his throat at the head of the table. “All right, we will keep
this brief and to the point so we can get out there and win that war. Dain,
Niris. You could not have come at a more needed time. Thank you.”
“You’ve earned it, cousin,” Dain nodded gruffly. “We’re happy to fight for
you.”
“I am sure that you are aware of this, but the slopes of Erebor are crawling
with enemies.” Niris wore a shrewd and calculating expression, and she seemed
to hiss a little whenever she spoke. “We barely got inside without being seen.
But by now, the elves and men will have seen our camp. They will be ready for
us.”
“Aye,” Thorin said sourly. “We have eyes through the ravens. We’ve seen them
organizing troops, fighters. They want Erebor’s gold.”
“There’s enough wealth in this kingdom to rebuild the city of Dale ten times
over,” Niris said. “The elves are already fighting a war in Mirkwood. Wars cost
money. Thranduil is poor. Now that the dragon is dead, there are five hundred
and thirteen – ah, eleven – dwarves standing between Erebor’s wealth and a
thousand elvish warriors. Plus the survivors of Laketown. Bard the Bowman
killed the dragon, did he not?”
“How do you know that?” Thorin asked.
Niris gave him a snake-like grin. Kili got the immediate sense that she was the
reason behind Dain’s ruthless pragmatism.
“You forget, Thorin. I know what Dain knows. But fear not,” she said casually
as Thorin stiffened in his seat. “Dain burned the letter after he read it. Only
two pairs of eyes have seen the contents of that letter. Dain’s, and yours.”
Kili jaw dropped. That was mating as it should be – they were one very powerful
soul in two bodies. No wonder Thorin seemed so threatened right now.
“Now,” Niris said, returning to her original point. “Our scouts tell us that
Bard has two, perhaps three hundred fighting men at best. That’s not many, but
it is not insignificant.”
“Nor are they green lads who would rather clutch at tits than weapons,” Dain
muttered.
“Those men are seasoned warriors,” Niris clarified. “They grew up for
generations under the desolation of Smaug, and they are hardened from the
experience.”
“But we brought veterans from Azinulbizar,” Dain said proudly. “With our
dwarves, you stand a solid chance against the twelve or thirteen hundred men
and elves that threaten the halls. But without the Arkenstone, hm. Your
leadership will be questioned, challenged, and without divine blessing.”
Niris combed her beard with her long fingernails and asked, “Have you found
it?”
Thorin was quiet. Kili could almost hear his teeth grinding together. Finally
he growled, “That hobbit betrayed me. He found the stone and hid it in his
pillow. Then he brought it to that damned elvish king as a bargaining chip!”
“What!?” Dain slammed his fists on the table. “That traitor!”
“Of course he stole it!” Niris spat. “What did you expect? That stone is worth
more than anything to the rule of Erebor, but only dwarves can fully appreciate
that. This… Halfling? He probably knew that you would give up everything to
recover the Arkenstone, especially if you spent a whole month looking for it.”
“I think you’re underestimating the hobbit’s intelligence, Niris,” Thorin
groused.
“I'd not underestimate 'im, cousin,” Dain muttered. “Most animals are smarter
than you think.”
“Uh,” Kili raised his hand. The others turned to look at him and he gulped.
“Can I ask something?” They waited for him, but they were not patient. He
summoned up all his courage. “What are you planning to do after the battle? I
know I’m the heir, but I have to fight. If I… If I should die… Who’s next in
line to the throne?”
“You know the answer to that question, Kili.” Thorin frowned blackly at the
table. “Dain here is my closest kin after you and and your brother. Mahal
forbid the worst should happen and that you and I both perish, but if that
happens, Dain will ascend to the throne as King Under the Mountain.”
“And you’re just… going to let Fili keep on living like he is?” Kili looked
around the room. Their silence was a bad sign. “He’ll be all alone.”
“Kili, he is alone.” Niris’s voice was cold, sterile. “Do you understand the
significance of what has happened to your brother?”
“I…” Kili drew his lip up into his mouth. Then he said what he knew. “I know he
was raped. I know that is very bad for our kind. My mother told me once that… a
bond forged in hate risks the soul.”
“Aye, that’s right,” Dain said. “It’s all about the power of the soul. Every
bond between the souls of a mated pair has an exchange o’ power. Usually, th’
exchange is equal, and no mate gets an upper hand o’er the other. Not even in
the course of a lifetime.”
“Rape is different, Kili,” Niris said. “The exchange is never equal. Because
the bond was forged in an unequal manner, the exchange never becomes equal.
Think about it like trading coins with a set rate of exchange. If I have ten
coins, and you have ten coins, and we trade five for five each time, no one
gets a larger number of coins. Do you follow?”
Kili nodded. He didn’t think he was thatstupid.
“Imagine you give me four coins for every one of my five,” said Niris. “After
one exchange, I have nine coins, and you have eleven. Then the next time, you
have twelve coins and I have only eight. That’s what rape is amongst our kind -
An unequal exchange of power that grows progressively worse over time.”
“Oh no…” Kili pressed a hand to his mouth. Then he said bleakly, “Dwalin’s
draining him.”
”Aye, laddie.” Dain’s eyes glittered with barely constrained rage. “A rapist
feeds off o’ the soul. It’s as damagin’ to the rapist as to the victim. Dwalin
wasn’t always a monster, but because o’ what he’s done, now he’s no different
than a blood-suckin' leech.”
“There is the age difference, too,” Niris said quietly. “Fili is much younger
than Dwalin, and age imposes a natural difference in power upon any dwarves,
mated or no. It is why we respect our elders.” She gave a brief nod across the
table to a motionless Balin. “ The age difference accelerates the exchange of
power, and the bond is strengthened more swiftly than usual. But in a case like
rape, Dwalin is already stealing life from Fili and giving next to nothing in
return. The combination of age and violation means he's doing it faster. The
bond grows exceedingly strong on the order of years, not decades.”
“It’s hard for th’ young ones in other ways,” Dain grumbled darkly. “New adults
don’t know how to handle their bodies. Bah, comin’ of age is rough. You don’t
even know what you like yet. I mean, pardon my crassness, but can you imagine
gettin’ fucked in the arse before you even know how to handle your cock?”
Kili gave an involuntary shudder. Thorin went grey and Balin stayed silent as a
tomb. Niris was unphased.
“There is a reason that rape carries the death sentence,” she said. “The only
crimes that are worse among our people are murder and treason.”
“Oh, Mahal…” Rape seemed worse than murder in Kili's mind, and against a crown
prince - it was treason by definition. But somehow, they all bore the same
penalty – death and burial without honor. A dead dwarf who was not buried in
stone or burned never passed into the Halls of Mandos. His soul would be lost
to nothingness for all eternity.
Kili suddenly had a horrible thought. “What happens when that happens?”
When they all stared blankly at him, Thorin leaned in and quietly snipped at
him, “Rephrase your question.”
Kili realized he hadn't spoken his entire thought. His neck grew warm as he
tried to clarify. “What happens when… the spirit of a raped dwarf dies before
his mate, and then you punish the rapist with an honorless death?”
Dain gave a low, unhappy growl. “That’s a sad thing, lad. The eternal part o’
the soul stays with the living mate. That part goes with the rapist into the
nothin’.”
“So you - we - condemn the victim of a rape to damnation?” Kili gave a soft
noise of horror. “Are we really so… evil?”
“It is unfortunate,” Niris said, “but it has happened. The law is the law.
Besides, in most cases, rape is identified far before the victim weakens past
the point of recovery. I can think of… perhaps four instances throughout our
history when that has happened.”
Kili gasped in shock. Even just four seemed like too high a number for such a
terrible, terrible fate.
“Well, what about Fili?” he asked worriedly. “He’s not gonna one of them, is
he?”
“Fili has a long struggle ahead of him,” Thorin muttered. “He will need to
fight for years to hold on to his spirit. Then when Dwalin dies –”
“What!?” Dain and Niris shouted it simultaneously. Dain shot to his feet.
“Dwalin’s alive!?” Niris’s icy exterior had cracked into malice. “Do you have
any idea how powerful that bond is? You left Dwalin living after you knew about
it? You should have killed him the moment you suspected!”
“That is torture, Thorin!” Dain thrust an accusatory finger in Thorin’s face.
“You are torturing your own kin!”
“Fili is a dwarf!" Niris’s eyes glittered with hatred. "No dwarf should ever
have to endure that level of suffering. After seeing him crippled like that” –
she gave a hiss of disgust – “That is no life for our kind!”
“You make it sound like I should have killed Fili for what happened to him!”
Thorin snapped back at her.
Out of the corner of his eye, Kili caught the brief and cynical raise of
Niris’s eyebrows. The expression said that under the circumstances, that might
have been a mercy. Kili suddenly despised her.
“No, you fool!” Dain growled as he thumped his fist on the table. “That’s not
what we’re sayin’. Fili is kin. Of course we will do everythin’ we can to save
him.”
“But bear in mind” – Niris was rapidly regaining her composure – “Fili is
permanently altered from what has happened to him.”
“I know that!” Thorin cried. “Why do you think I had to rename this one” –
Thorin thrust a hand furiously at Kili – “as my heir?”
Niris ignored him. “Furthermore, a dwarf can sense what his or her mate
perceives through that bond. It’s dangerous, given the circumstances.”
“I know that, too!” Thorin shot to his feet. “That’s why Fili’s out in the
hallway! Are you questioning me?”
“Yes, you blind idiot!” Dain yelled. He was suddenly in Thorin’s face, towering
over his king. “You shoulda killed Dwalin the moment you found out. By keepin’
him alive, you’ve perpetuated Fili’s sufferin’!" He sucked in a deep breath and
filled his words with acid. "And you claim to love him as a son!”
Thorin crumbled. He blinked and broke the stare with Dain as he sank back down
into his chair. There, at the head of the table, he glared bitterly at his
hands. Eventually, Dain sat back down too. He still glared at Thorin for a
while, but then let it go.
In the ensuing quiet, Kili looked from one angry old dwarf to another. If this
was ruling amongst their people, he realized, it was small wonder that Durin’s
Folk were the last of their kind to live.
Eventually, Niris cleared her throat. Kili ventured a glance at her and saw
that her frigid calm had returned.
“Please tell me that you have been keeping Fili under a hard watch,” Niris said
flatly. “At the very least, he should be locked up so he doesn’t reveal
anything to Dwalin about your plans.”
“He has been locked up!” Kili’s sudden blurt caught the attention of the
council. “I’ve been with him the entire time, except during meetings like
these. And then, he’s got a guard. He’s practically a prisoner here. He’s not a
spy!”
“You sure he hasn’t seen anything, laddie?” Dain stroked his beard
suspiciously. “Or done anything?”
Kili swallowed. He had been with Fili the whole time. Fili had seen nothing
beyond the infirmary, their apartment, and a few passageways of the kingdom. No
secrets of the crown had been leaked. He gave a sharp, assured nod of his head
to say as much. He mentioned nothing of the molestations.
“Good,” Dain said gruffly. He turned back to Thorin. “Now, what I don’t
understand is why you didn’t use Fili to help you find Dwalin. He has the bond,
hm. They can sense each other through it.”
“You could have sent a few warriors out together with Fili and Kili,” Niris
said. Her eyes darted briefly to Kili, then back to Thorin. “Archery would have
been an advantage in this instance. Kili could have taken Dwalin down from afar
when he came looking for his mate.”
“What, you mean use Fili as bait?” The hairs on the back of Kili’s neck rose at
the suggestion. “That’s not right!”
“Kili has a point.” Thorin said the words under his breath, but for once, they
were words of approval. Yet Thorin, confident once more, went on ahead as if
he’d never said them. “What if something had gone wrong? Dwalin is a beast in
battle. And if the bond goes both ways, especially with Dwalin sucking power
from Fili, he could have – he would have – discovered the plan and turned it
back around on my dwarves! I could have lost both nephews and some of my only
fighters! Besides, we had to find the Arkenstone!” Thorin was angry again. He
gave a growl, then fell silent for a moment. Then he added with bitter
finality, “I would not risk my heir in such a plan.”
“What about risking Fili?” Kili demanded. “Is his life just… forfeit because of
what happened to him?”
Thorin looked as though Kili had struck him. He made to say something, but Dain
interrupted him.
“Of course not, lad! But Dwalin must be brought down! Especially with the
Arkenstone out amongst our enemies! Bah!”
“We were lucky enough to evade the elves and men until your dwarf showed us the
secret door,” said Niris. “But now that Fili – and through him, Dwalin – know
that we are here, Fili could leak information to our enemies about our numbers,
our capabilities, anything.”
“No, you’re wrong!” Kili snapped at her. Then he forced his anger down. “Fili
saw you through Dwalin’s eyes, not the other way around. Through that bond, we
knew you were here.”
“Dammit!” Thorin suddenly slammed his fist on the table and then pointed
fiercely at Dain. “If he saw you that means he is close! I thought you said
that you had scouts? You could have killed Dwalin if you had been competent
enough to catch him!”
“Without a trial?”
Balin had not yet spoken a single word in the meeting. Everyone turned to him
as if they’d forgotten he was there. He was staring at his gnarled hands. He’d
never looked older to Kili in all his life.
“You would just… condemn him to damnation?”
Thorin gave a low growl. When he spoke, his words were edged like swords. “For
what Dwalin did to Fili, I would string him up and flay the flesh from his
bones. Then I would tear his beating heart from his chest and throw his body to
the orcs.”
“Ohh…” Balin withered at Thorin’s words. He buried his head in his hands.
Kili didn’t know what to say anymore. This was all beyond him. Worried, he
scratched at the scar on his cheek. Suddenly the tingle in his new skin
suddenly reminded him that Fili could feel Dwalin’s pain as acutely as his own.
“You can’t do that,” Kili said quickly. When Thorin turned to him, he
clarified, “They feel each other.”
“What?” Thorin’s eyes flitted from Kili to Dain, then to Niris and back to
Kili. “Speak plainly!”
Everyone was staring at him. They were waiting again. This time, their patience
was gone. Kili gulped and scrambled for words.
“You can’t torture Dwalin to death. You might as well torture Fili! Um, I… I
think they’re in each other’s minds.” They stared at him in shock. He was
suddenly flustered. He didn’t know what he was talking about. Mating was a
thing that was yet beyond him. “Well, I don’t know how it works! How does that
even work?”
“The bond facilitates the exchange of different sensations over time,” Niris
said to him. She then fixed her piercing green eyes on Thorin. “Emotions are
shared first, then physical sensations. Then finally, old mated pairs can hear
each other’s thoughts.”
“But that takes decades,” Dain said as he gestured to his mate. “Niris and
don’t share many thoughts, only th’ important ones. And we’ve been mated since
before you were born, Kili.”
“What?” Kili gaped at Dain. That couldn’t be right. “But… Fili and Dwalin are
sharing thoughts.”
The other dwarves turned to him. A look of dread passed over Dain’s face and
Thorin sucked in a sharp inhale through his nostrils. Kili realized then that
he had no way out of this. No way out but to tell the truth.
“Fili hears him in his head. Dwalin tells him to do things.” An image of a
possessed Fili writhing in pain and pleasure flashed in Kili’s mind. He dropped
his eyes to the tabletop and felt the shame returning to redden his face.
“Sometimes Fili can’t say no. He can’t say no because Dwalin controls him.”
“Oh, no…”
The chill in Balin’s voice made Kili’s blood run like ice. The grave silence
that followed was punctuated only by Dain’s low, defeated growl. Thorin’s face
had lost the last of its color.
“What does that mean?” Kili asked, growing desperate. “Please, someone tell me
what that means!”
Niris drew in a low hiss through her teeth. Then she tightened her mouth into a
lipless seam. “Kili, this is bad. This is very bad. Remember what I said about
power exchange? It can be extreme in cases of rape, but it’s never so much as
for one dwarf to feel… compelled by the other. You say that Fili feels that?”
Kili was suddenly at a loss for words. The slow horror started to crawl up his
spine.
“Oh, laddie…” Dain had taken Kili’s silence as an affirmation. When he spoke
again, his voice was grave. “That there is a terrible sign. What that means is
that whatever happened the night Dwalin took Fili as a mate, your brother was
forced into makin’ a choice between rape and death. For our kind, that is no
choice at all. That is a choice between a quick death… and a very slow one.”
“No…” Kili pressed his hands to his mouth and filled them with an anguished
cry. “No, oh no...” His palms muddled his words. “Oh, Fili…”
Kili began to weep softly into his big hands. He no longer cared how pitiful he
sounded. This was Fili, his only brother.
To Kili’s left, Thorin gave a small, pained gasp.
“No… had I known…”
Kili looked bleary-eyed over at his uncle. It was like seeing a stranger.
Thorin Oakenshield, defeated, had laid his head down upon the tabletop.
Kili knew exactly how he felt.
Then Thorin inhaled suddenly and sat up straight in his chair. He wiped his
hand across his face and dried his leaking eyes. He was suppressing his sadness
yet again. Thorin always could. And because Thorin could, he always would.
“How long?”
“With compulsion?” Niris shook her head at Thorin. “That is decay in the mind.
Dwalin’s presence is like rot in Fili’s soul, and so long as Dwalin lives, Fili
will grow weaker and weaker until his spirit dies. He will be nothing but a
body, a shell for Dwalin to act through. How long did you say he has been
mated?”
“Since summer,” Thorin whispered. “June.”
Dain gave a low growl. “Well, I’ll be frank,” he muttered, “it’s amazing he’s
still lucid. That agile mind o’ his has helped, but I don’t think he has much
longer. Maybe if we can kill Dwalin - ”
“No, my love.” Niris softly cut off her mate. “I regret to say it, but not even
that will help. Not anymore. Compulsion is the final stage in the slow death of
the soul. It means that Fili has already lost all autonomy to Dwalin. Once a
threshold like that has been crossed, there is no going back. Even if Dwalin
dies, Fili will lose his mind. He may make it a few more months, but that is…
unlikely.” Then even heartless Niris sounded sad. “Fili will be dead by
spring.”
* * * * *
Fili stared in shock at Gloin. He wasn’t sure if he’d heard right. He couldn’t
have heard right.
“Did you say… Kili gave you that order?” When Gloin didn’t answer, Fili slammed
his hand furiously against Gloin’s spaulder. The warrior barely budged. “Answer
me!”
“Yes, Fili!” Gloin cried. A look of pain passed over his face. “He said yer not
to be alone. That you… were not to know anything. You might leak information.”
“To Dwalin?” When Gloin nodded, Fili pushed him up against the wall. Gloin
moved surprisingly easily. He was going easy on Fili in his weakened state, not
wanting to hurt him. That just made Fili angry. “I know that it’s a risk! But
I’m the older brother! You take my orders, not Kili’s! I am Thorin’s heir!”
When Gloin said nothing, Fili suddenly grasped the meaning of his silence. He
let Gloin’s collar fall from his hands. All anger drained from him and he
staggered back.
“Aren’t I?”
In the wall behind Gloin’s shoulder a dark fissure opened up in the stone. The
crack spread quickly down into the floor. It ran between Fili’s feet and
widened. Fili gasped as the weeds suddenly grew up out of the blackness and his
dark forest set to work on consuming the walls around him.
It began to rain.
The crack continued to grow until it had spread Fili’s legs apart. In his shock
he hadn’t readjusted his footing. Now, he was trapped over the chasm as the
rainwater began to fill it. The icy downpour soaked into Fili’s skin and washed
away every emotion and hope and ambition that he had ever had. They pooled in
the chasm beneath him, swirling together into a dark and greasy pool that held
nothing but a terrible answer to Fili’s question.
If Gloin didn’t help him now, Fili was going to fall.
He grabbed for Gloin. His friend was translucent. Fading.
“Aren’t I!?”
Gloin’s silence confirmed the truth. Then he evaporated. Fili was alone in the
forest.
“NO!” Fili cried. His footing gave out and he slipped and fell into the pool.
There, the myriad of implications surrounding his disinheritance sucked him
down until the black mud poured into his nostrils and his mouth. Fili began to
drown in it.
He had been stripped, utterly stripped. He had no strength, nor dignity, nor
future. Now, the entire reason for Dwalin’s assault had been denied to him,
given away to his younger brother. Without the promise of a crown, Fili was
nothing to Dwalin. Nothing.
Through the bond, Fili knew that Dwalin felt it, too. Suddenly everything had
been in vain – the rape by the river, the secrecy, the months-long fight for
control. Dwalin suddenly regretted his decision to go after Fili at all. He
should have just killed the little bastard and raped the younger one and saved
himself the trouble of a double conquest. Fili was garbage now, a burden. What
had once been a beautiful young thing with an incomparable dowry was little
more now than picked over scraps and bones.
Fili felt it, too. His life was forfeit.
Fili succumbed to the thick and sucking pool and gave himself up to death. As
the mud poured into his lungs and stomach he gulped it down, knowing this was a
more merciful death than what Dwalin had planned for him. But as the stars
began to wink his vision and his thoughts grew hazy, he was suddenly moving
upwards. Something was dragging him back to the surface.
When he broke the surface of the pool his body forced out the mud and he
vomited back into the chasm. The cold, wet air of his forest filled his lungs
and he descended into a fit of agonized coughing. The strong hand on his
shoulder threw him down on the bank of the pool and he spat out every black
mouthful of mud until he could breathe again.
There in the mud, he collapsed onto his back. The rain still poured down heavy
and washed away the filth from his body. He draped his thin, scarred forearms
over his eyes and mouth so he could breath as the the icy deluge washed him
clean.
Fili… Stay with me, Fili.
The voice was not Dwalin’s. It was not low enough to be Thorin’s or Kili’s. It
sounded like Fili’s own high tenor, and while he did not think it was his own,
he could not be sure. It captivated his attention. Even as the wind drove the
brutal rain around him and he shivered in the icy cold, he lay there in the mud
and listened to the voice. Its sound was a song of sad comfort in an otherwise
ruthless world.
* * * * *
Kili went as quite as the grave. Not even tears were enough anymore. The only
sound that punctuated the silence of Thorin’s study was the discompassionate
crackle of the fire as it consumed itself.
Fili was going to die. They all knew it now.
Thorin broke the silence with a heavy exhale. His eyes were red and bleary, but
now they were fixed intently upon his nephew.
“You must know something, Kili.”
Kili said nothing, but Thorin still got to his feet. He pulled a key from his
pocket and crossed the study to his desk. There, he unlocked one of the drawers
and pulled out a fat fold of sealed vellum.
“I was not going to share this with you until you were much older. But now,
time is of the essence. You must know the contents of Fili’s journal.” Thorin
returned to his seat at the head of the table. He broke the seal on the vellum,
smoothed out the fold in the thick stack of pages, and then turned to Dain and
Niris. “Fili wrote an account of the mating act and other… abuses. I have
transcribed it. He did not date his original document, but I estimate that this
occurred over the first two weeks since Rivendell. Balin has already read this.
But it is time that the rest of us knew exactly what happened.”
Thorin handed the document to Dain. He took it and without glancing at it,
passed it to Niris. “You read faster, love,” he rumbled.
Niris was devoid of emotion as she picked up the document and peered down her
nose at it. As she began to read, Dain gave a sudden soft gasp. Then he let out
a low shudder of anger.
Kili watched the mated pair. Despite his misery, they had him captivated. Niris
was still as stone but for the hand that turned the pages and her intelligent
eyes. Those sharp green things swiftly scanned the pages, consuming the
information faster than any dwarf Kili had ever seen. Beside her, Dain’s face
expressed all of the feels for the both of them. His face contorted in emotions
ranging from barely restrained rage to miserable anguish to the slow, seething
need to exact vengeance. When Niris finally set down the last page, Dain looked
as ready to eviscerate Dwalin as he was in agony over what had happened between
his kin.
“Oh, Kili… You do not want to read this.” Niris planted her gauntleted hand
atop the document. “But if you are to be heir, you must know what the price was
for your title.”
Kili gasped as the implication of her words hit him like a bucket of upended
ice water.
“No… No! I never wanted that title!”
“Kili, will you contain yourself!?” Thorin bellowed suddenly. “Stop acting like
a child! You can no longer shirk your duties, even given the – the tragedy of
the circumstances!” He thrust his hand out at Niris. She gave him the vellum
and Thorin dumped it into Kili’s hands. “Read it! Read your brother’s words and
know what responsibility is!”
That hurt. It hurt so badly because it was so true. Kili had always been the
less responsible of the brothers, but before now, that had never been a
problem. Never, ever had Kili expected to become the heir in Fili’s stead. But
now he was. He could no longer be the child he wanted to be. He was an adult,
in practice if not yet in form. And as much as he hated it, he was Thorin’s
betrothed and his successor, and one day, Kili would be king.
He wanted none of it. But he no longer had a choice.
Wounded, Kili sniffled softly and turned his attention to the vellum. Despite
the heavy, angry hand that had penned the Khuzdul runes, they were clear,
precise, and perfectly legible. That hardly mattered. Kili was garbage at
reading Khuzdul. He suddenly regretted every single lesson he had skipped. But
he had no choice now except to try and read. Kili took a deep and steadying
breath to clear his mind of distraction. Then he poured all of his mental
energy into reading the first line.
November the - 2941 - The - - - the Sun.
He glanced at Thorin, who pointedly nodded at the page. Kili swallowed and
looked back at the runes. He skipped past the date and started to read again,
furrowing his brow in concentration.
I am Fili, son - Dis, - - heir - Thorin Oakenshield, King - the -
I am Fili, son - Dis. - - is Dwalin, son - Fundin. - I - - age -
He couldn’t read it. Humiliated, he shook his head at Thorin, needing help.
Thorin jerked the vellum out of Kili’s hands. Then he cleared his throat and
began to read out loud in a voice still thick with sorrow.
“I am Fili, son of Dis. My mate is Dwalin, son of Fundin. When I came of age, I
did not choose my mate. The choice was made for me. Dwalin raped me to claim my
inheritance for his own.” Thorin paused a moment and let out a long, heavy
sigh. He then gave a look to his nephew that Kili had never seen before. If it
were anyone but Thorin, it might have been compassion. Then Thorin’s eyes
returned to the page and he began to read again. “I let him rape me so that he
would not hurt my brother. I let him rape me so that he would not kill me.”
Kili went boneless. He collapsed onto the table and his long hair fell into his
face and hid his unchecked tears. Kili had always felt terrible guilt for
leaving Fili that night, but now, as Thorin read aloud every single atrocity
committed against Fili in just the first two weeks, the guilt compounded upon
itself and grew until it had fully consumed him.
Fili had given up his future to save his own skin, but above that, above all
else, he had given up his life to save his comparably worthless brother.
Kili had no words left when at last Thorin finished reading the transcription.
No one had words, it seemed. Everyone was still and silent and no sound was
heard in the study but for the cold-hearted fire.
It was only when Kili felt the hand upon his left shoulder that he raised his
head from the table. He gave a heavy sniff and brushed his hair out of his
eyes. Then he looked miserably up at his uncle.
“You must understand, Kili,” Thorin said quietly. “Your brother is still alive,
but he will not be for much longer. He gave the highest sacrifice that a dwarf
can give. He bought your freedom with his life. You can never repay that debt.
All that you can do is prepare to be the best possible king that you have it in
you to be. Otherwise, your brother’s life…” He gave a soft sob and pressed his
hand to his mouth. Then he composed himself. Finally, he finished. “Otherwise,
Fili’s life will have been given up in vain.”
* * * * *
Fili…
Fili lay on his back in the downpour, listening to the voice on the wind.
Fili…
Every time he heard his name the voice sounded closer, as if the owner of the
voice was searching for him in the forest.
Fili.
This time it was next to him. He shot upright and his eyes flew open.
Through the downpour, he could see two familiar, dark-haired dwarves kneeling
just a few feet in front of him. His blood ran as cold as the ice water that
had soaked him.
Dwalin gave him a knowing smirk. Fili’s mate was just as big and threatening as
ever, but now his look was finished with a crown of mithril and gold. His
clothes were the richest of dwarvish fabrics and the garments were cut in the
royal styles only worn by kings. Despite the downpour, he was strangely dry.
His smirk grew wider and he thrust a fist towards Fili’s face. Clenched between
Dwalin’s heavy fingers was an intricate, multi-linked chain forged to match his
crown.
Fili followed the length of the chain to where it extended back and to Dwalin’s
right. It ended in a mithril collar. The thing was priceless, studded with
sapphires and emeralds and ornately filigreed with unique geometric designs.
Its beauty was tarnished only by its intended purpose, its seamless and
unopenable design, and the fact that the collar had been fixed forever around
Kili’s bare-skinned throat.
Fili gasped as he drank in the image of his brother. Kili was naked on his
knees in the mud. He was older now, and though his beard was still thin, it was
truly a beard and no longer the stubble of a juvenile. A few elegant braids on
either side of his face extended back from his sideburns into his long,
dripping hair. His brown eyes were still as wide and curious and beautiful as
ever. But now, they held the gleam of lust that only came with adulthood.
Dwalin gave a soft chuckle and a gentle shake of the chain. As if compelled,
Kili pulled himself up and stretched out his arms, arched his back, and raised
his face to the rain. The water poured down his nude body and plastered all of
Kili’s dark hair to his skin. Its iciness made Kili’s flesh go tight over his
muscles. The rain flowed down his torso and formed long rivulets upon his chest
and taut belly. There on Kili's skin, the water coalesced into a single river
that flowed downwards, until the stream was finally split between Kili’s thighs
by his fully aroused and very impressive manhood.
Fili…
The voice was loud, just feet away, but there was no one else around. It must
have been in his head. But only Dwalin could speak in his mind. The Dwalin in
his vision had said nothing. Fili looked from Dwalin to Kili, scared,
shivering, and now, terribly confused.
As if seeing Fili’s bewilderment, Kili lithely dropped down to all fours and
crawled forward, looking up through wet lashes at Fili. There was hunger in his
eyes. Kili traced his tongue over his upper lip and then leaned in close to
Fili. His breath was warm upon Fili’s neck. His lips were less than an inch
from Fili’s jaw.
My love…
Dwalin appeared behind Kili and a slow, evil smile spread over his features. He
held up his hands. One still clutched the middle of the chain. The other held
an open golden collar, the twin to Kili’s mithril.
We could have everything, brother, Kili murmured. With Dwalin as king, we would
want for nothing. We could be together. Inseparable as always. He would let us,
because he wants us both. He wants us to be happy.
Kili pressed his soft, warm mouth to his brother’s jawline. At the touch Fili’s
eyes drifted closed. He felt the pleasure suddenly course through his body,
radiating away from the place where Kili’s lips met his skin. As he let out a
soft gasp of desire, the rain around him stopped. Then he felt a rush of warm
air through his clammy clothing.
His eyes flew open at the changes in sensation. He was still in the forest,
sitting in his mud puddle. Around him, the clouds had cleared. The sunlight
started to glitter on the rain that now hung like diamonds in the trees.
It was beautiful. So beautiful.
But Dwalin still knelt before him, with his leashed and naked pet. Kili gave
Fili a gentle smile and pulled his lower lip into his mouth. That gesture had
always been one of frustration or worry, but now, it was meant to seduce.
Fili cried out and leapt up from the ground. He took off running as hard and as
fast as his damaged leg would let him. It wasn’t fast, but that didn’t matter.
They weren’t following him.
As he rushed through the trees, the thunder crashed once more above him. The
rain came back with a vengeance. Above the canopy, lightning pierced the
blackening sky. He barreled through the underbrush, not knowing where he was
going. The path was rough. More than once, he stumbled. But he went on as hard
as he could. The only thing he knew was that he had to get away from Dwalin.
But he couldn’t. The storm was on him.
A ways off to his left, a searing flash of lightning cracked a massive tree and
shattered it. Splinters the size of swords came shooting through the air. Fili
slammed to the ground as hard as he could, but piercing pain suddenly ripped
into his side. He screamed out in agony. When he twisted to look, he saw that
three massive splinters had embedded themselves in his abdomen. He groaned and
fell onto his back. Then he felt the slow, agonizing burn of acid as it began
to seep out of his stomach.
A gut wound. Gut wounds were deadly in a place like this.
No!
He dragged himself up and with a yell pulled the splinters from his side. Blood
spurted out of the wounds and spread rapidly through the fabric of his
clothing. He lurched on, clutching his side. The pain was getting worse.
Fili! Come back to me!
Fili staggered towards the voice. His foot caught on a hidden root and he went
sprawling to the forest floor. He groaned as he hit hard. The rain seemed to
pound his ailing body into the mud. He cried out in despair. Fili didn’t want
to die. Not here. Not where he couldn’t be buried in stone.
Fili!
He looked up into the darkness. He could barely see twenty feet in front of his
face. The thunder raged around him. Then suddenly a flash of lightning
illuminated a deep clearing. At the end of it, inexplicably there in pristine
condition amidst the menacing trees, was a house. It was his house. The little
two-story stone house where he and his family had lived during the lean years
of his childhood.
Lights were in the window. Someone was home.
He forced himself back to his feet but then he slipped again. He could only
crawl. So he did. He pulled his dying body across the clearing until he
collapsed on the front step. He slammed his hand on the door and grasped the
handle. Unlocked, the door swung open. He pulled himself inside and once he had
crossed the threshold, at last he swung out his good leg and kicked the door
closed behind him.
* * * * *
The bang of the study door made Kili jump in his seat.
“Come quick!” Gloin’s yell was frantic. “It’s Fili!”
They all shot to their feet. Kili leapt up and over the table, heart suddenly
pounding. He barreled past Gloin and through the study door into the hall,
searching frantically for his brother.
Fili was on the floor in the arms of the strange dwarf, convulsing and
unconscious. His eyes had rolled up into his skull and foam poured from his
mouth. The stranger stuck a gauntleted finger between Fili’s teeth and
protective rage boiled up inside Kili.
“What are you doing to him!?”
Kili slammed into the stranger to get him away from his brother. Then the swift
backhand of a gauntlet to his face sent him crashing to the floor.
“No, Kili!”
Kili stopped in his tracks. He barely noticed the burst of fire in his cheek,
and he gasped as he pulled himself up.
He didn’t believe it.
As the rest of the dwarves charged into the hall, the stranger hooked a hand on
her helm, whipped it off, and threw it away. The familiar black and silver
braids went tumbling down around her shoulders. Then she pressed her lips to
her dying son’s forehead and called for him by name.
* * * * *
Fili.
At the sound of her voice Fili lifted his head from the floor.
Seated on the rug by the fireplace was his mother. She was wrapped in blanket
and was in the middle of darning socks. She looked over at him sadly and set
her work aside.
From near her, Fili could hear the soft sound of a child’s voice. He looked,
and there on the rug was Kili, sitting next to their mother. He babbled happily
to himself, playing with wooden sticks. He was a dwarfling still, barely big
enough to hold a sword, and far too young to be the monstrous thing that Dwalin
wanted to make of him. As Kili noticed Fili, he threw his big brother a goofy
smile. Then he went back to his game.
The house of Fili’s childhood had been poor, sparse in furniture and
decoration, and Kili had never gotten those toy soldiers to replace his sticks.
But despite the poverty of their home during that time, the house was solid and
familiar and full of comfort. Now, as then, the air was warm and dry. The house
smelled of sage, dark beer, and dense brown bread. Beside the roaring fire, the
stack of wood was high, and the crackle of the hearth masked the sound of the
storm outside.
Fili lay there on the doormat, still reeling from his mad dash through the
trees. He was safe now, but still drenched to the bone. His teeth chattered
from the cold. But when he finally managed to haul himself to his feet, he did
so easily. He didn’t hurt anymore. His crippled knee was whole. He looked down
at his belly but the wounds were gone. He was no longer dying.
Fili, come back to me.
At her call, Fili ran to Mother. She stood and towered over him. With a wistful
smile, she knelt down before him. She helped him out of his rain-soaked
clothing. Smiling warmly, she wrapped him in her blanket and he closed his
eyes. Then she dried his hair and the dwarfling stubble on his face and
finally, she pressed a kiss to his forehead.
My son, she murmured. It’s only rain.
Fili let her voice and her warmth bring him back to calmness. The sound of the
fire and the rain began to fade. Then he began to hear the murmur of voices.
There were many, frantic and muddled and deep, but one high tenor was clear
above them all.
“Fili, my son. Come back to me.”
He opened his eyes.
He was in someone’s arms on the floor. Several blurry bearded faces came into
focus above him.
Fili knew them all.
In the back, Gloin and Niris looked alarmed. Balin held a shaking hand over his
mouth. Dain was red-faced and wild-eyed, and Thorin looked like the grave
warmed over. Beside him was Kili, face tearstreaked and inexplicably bloodied.
The final face – the stranger’s face – was no stranger at all.
“Mother?”
She beamed at him and tears welled up in her eyes.
“Oh, my son! My son!”
Fili cried out in joy and relief and desperation at seeing her there above him.
He began to weep and she cradled him close.
“Fili… I’m here, my son. I’m finally here.”
***** Chapter 31 *****
Thorin sat with his legs crossed on the bare sitting room floor beside Kili.
The voices from the bedroom were barely audible murmurs that were only
interrupted by the gentle click of Kili’s hands as he nervously picked at his
fingernails. After everything that had happened, even that tiny noise was
enough to set Thorin’s teeth on edge.
“Kili.” Thorin gently grabbed one of Kili’s hands and folded it into his own.
He sighed heavily, wearily. Then he reminded his nephew, “You are not the only
son of Durin’s Line to lose a brother.”
Kili said nothing. Instead, he gave a heavy sniff. Though his unbraided hair
fell in his face and masked his expression, Thorin knew Kili well enough to
know that he was in tears.
“Look at me, Kili.”
Kili turned a little towards him. He looked up at Thorin through the curtain of
his hair. His eyes were red, but his cheeks were dry. Though he was still
sniffling, Kili was no longer crying. That heartened Thorin a little, but not
by much. Not now. Thorin Oakenshield knew how his sister-son felt. He too had
cried when his brother had died, lost to a power beyond Thorin’s control.
“I have never spoken to you about Frerin, have I?”
Kili dropped his gaze back to the floor and stayed silent.
“Frerin died as a child in a war started by my grandfather,” Thorin said. The
long-suppressed memory of Frerin’s faceless corpse came out from a dark and
mostly unexplored part of Thorin’s past. It was too painful and dangerous to
delve that deeply into his heart, but now he had to, for Kili’s sake if no one
else’s. “He was truly a dwarfling, even younger than you are now. But because
of the decisions of my grandfather and my father, he died. His body was
defiled. And then he was burned before I could ever say goodbye.”
Next to him, Kili gave out a soft whimper of despair. He pulled his hand away
and buried his face in his palms. Thorin hesitated to touch him. Kili seemed so
fragile at the moment. Thorin feared that the slightest touch would send him
spiraling into hysterics.
“You need to be strong now,” he said to reassure his nephew. “Be grateful that
you have the chance to say farewell to your brother before… before he leaves
this world.”
Kili gave a pained gasp and turned to glare at Thorin.
“You think that makes this easier?” Kili snapped. This time, he was crying
again, but beneath the tears there was a glint of wrath. “It makes it harder!
You know it’s coming!”
“Kili,” Thorin lowered his voice to a gently chastising growl. “One day you
will understand. It is good to know these things, even when it hurts.
Otherwise, you make mistakes. A king cannot afford to make mistakes, for the
price of a king’s error is the life of the innocent.”
Kili furrowed his brow and mouthed wordlessly for a moment. “You blame yourself
for what happened to Fili,” he deduced at last.
Thorin went quiet. It was his turn to stare at the floor. “In some ways,” he
finally said. “Dwalin is the one who hurt your brother, but it was I who left
Fili defenseless.”
“Why?” Kili’s question was biting in its petulant simplicity. But then he
clarified, “Why do you think that way? Fili doesn’t blame you. Not at all.”
“He should,” Thorin said. He realized his words sounded bitter, but he had lost
all will to take the sting out of the truth. “I am his king and his uncle. I
was responsible for his fate. But I made mistakes. Over the past eight months
and longer, I have made so many mistakes that ended up costing your brother his
young life.”
“You didn’t know,” Kili whined, slumping miserably. “You didn’t know what was
going to happen. How could you know?”
“That’s what a mistake is. A decision made without all the information, even
the most painful information, is a potential mistake.” To comfort his sister-
son, Thorin reached out and brushed the hair out of Kili’s face. His nephew
stiffened at the awkwardness of the touch. Thorin then realized just how
unwelcome his hands were. He pulled away. “We can never know everything. Thus,
we all make mistakes. The gravest mistakes are those that cost the innocent
their lives. When we make those mistakes, we are damned.”
Kili gave a scoff. “That’s cheerful,” he said sardonically.
Thorin ignored that. “A king has tremendous power. His mistakes risk the
damnation of his entire people.” Thorin repositioned himself so that now, he
was seated in front of his nephew. When Kili looked up at him, Thorin went on.
“My grandfather damned himself and all of us when he tried to retake
Dwarrowdelf. Our people were slaughtered. We couldn’t even bury our dead in
stone. We were already scattered to the winds, but that war left us penniless
and starving and on the brink of death for decades. Because of that mistake, I
had to pay my penance. But my grandfather’s damnation does not end with me. It
ends with you, and with your brother. Your lives are the terrible, terrible
price of bringing our people home.”
Kili’s jaw had dropped. He was staring wide-eyed back at his uncle, but for
once, Thorin had no idea what the expression on Kili’s face meant.
“The price of Erebor,” Thorin said slowly, “is your freedom, my freedom, and
most tragically, Fili’s life.”
Kili recoiled. “That… that can’t be true!”
“All our actions have consequences, boy!” He grabbed Kili by the shoulders. As
sour as the truth was, Thorin had to make Kili see it. “Look at me. Now!”
Kili met his eyes again. This time, he was seething.
“I know you neither want to be my heir or my mate,” Thorin said. “Believe me,
if I could choose differently, I would. We are not made for each other, Kili.
We are strong-willed and stubborn in exactly the opposite ways. But you have it
in you to be a good and responsible king, I see that now. I have seen it in
your dedication to your brother’s well-being, even as he slips away.”
Kili’s eyes glittered dangerously. “And you gave up on him, you bastard!”
Thorin’s short temper snapped. With a yell of fury, he punched Kili hard where
Dis had already struck him. The clotted wound burst open and fresh blood
splattered from the gash.
Kili fell back. Thorin raised his fist again to strike. But as Kili scrambled
away in alarm, gasping in shock, Thorin remembered whom he had just hit. This
was Kili, his sister-son! Never in his life had Thorin hit Kili. Even when Kili
infuriated him, especially when Kili infuriated him, Thorin Oakenshield was a
coward if he thought it was okay to beat a dwarfling.
That fury was not meant for Kili. It was meant for Dwalin. And though Kili was
obstinant, defiant, and at times an insult to their heritage, he was still
first and foremost Thorin’s nephew and his subject. Because of that, and only
that, Thorin loved him despite everything.
Kili jumped to his feet to get away. But before he could get far, Thorin leapt
up and grabbed Kili by the elbow and pulled him into a hug. Kili struggled in
his grip, but Thorin held him tightly. It had worked so often when Kili was
little and upset. Now, though it took longer and more strength on Thorin’s part
to calm Kili down, the trick still worked. Eventually, Kili stopped fighting.
Then he went limp in Thorin’s arms.
Thorin held him a little longer. Then he pressed his palm to the back of Kili’s
head.
“I know you’re angry,” he whispered in Kili’s ear. “I am too, and I should not
have struck you in my rage.” He gripped Kili’s shoulders again, pushed him
back, and touched his forehead to his nephew’s. “Save your wrath for the
battlefield, Kili. It is not useful between us.”
Then he let Kili go. As Kili staggered backwards and bumped into the wall
behind him, Thorin could see that the look of defiance in his big brown eyes
had withered. With the wall at his back and no where else to go, Kili sank down
to the floor and dropped his head into his hands. He suddenly looked so
pitiable, more helpless than he ever had in his entire life. At the sight of
that, Thorin’s old and bitter heart ached within his chest. The obviousness of
Kili’s turmoil made it clear at last where Thorin’s mistake had been.
“Your passions must be tempered, Kili.” Thorin knelt in front of his nephew and
he lifted Kili’s face by the chin. Then through Kili’s hair, Thorin pressed a
kiss to his nephew’s forehead. “You are as full of wild emotions as your mother
was when she was your age. Dis was fortunate in finding Erili. Most dwarves are
not so lucky. Most matings are arranged for a reason. I made a terrible mistake
in letting Fili choose his own mate, for that choice left his future open to
Dwalin’s taking. I will not make that mistake with you. After what happened to
your brother, it is my duty and my penance to guard your tender heart.”
* * * * *
Kili sat slumped against the wall, defeated by Thorin’s words.
Thorin still knelt in front of him. The sensation of his unwelcome kiss still
lingered on Kili’s brow. When Thorin finally stood and left him alone, Kili
drew his legs in close and let his head fall until it rested on top of his
knees.
He suddenly knew how Fili must have felt when he had tried to end his life.
There was no future here. Without a future, there was no hope.
It had taken so long and so much suffering for Kili to finally give up hope.
But now, with Fili’s impending death and the inevitability of a life at
Thorin’s side, there was no hope left. Not for Kili. Thorin was older and a
king, already so much more powerful than Kili. That power difference had only
grown now. In principle if not yet in practice, Thorin had taken Kili as a mate
against his will. It was gentler than rape, but it had the same effect. When
Kili finally came of age, Thorin would forge the bond between them and through
it, Kili would be slowly drained of the essence that made him who he was. Over
the decades, Kili would grow into as old and bitter a dwarf as Thorin until he
was finally relieved of his burden and passed on into the Halls of Mandos. And
through the many long years, Kili would have to bear his suffering without
Fili's reassuring presence.
Never had Kili felt so alone. Never had Kili felt so powerless.
He startled when he heard the soft opening of the bedroom door. He looked up,
but it was only Oin. He slumped back down and stared at the floor again.
“Fili’s all right fer now,” Oin said. For once, he was quiet.
“What happened?” Thorin enunciated loud enough for Oin to hear.
“He was startled pretty bad, tha’s all, but… ah. Well, we can’t quite say what
exactly ‘appened. Medicinally, I mean.”
“Can I see him?”
“See him?” Oin repeated. “Ah, well… maybe ye should. After an attack like that…
we migh’ not be able to pull him back next time.”
Kili looked up in time to see Thorin push past Oin and open the bedroom door.
Kili jumped up and made to follow his uncle, but at the door, Thorin blocked
him with an outstretched arm. He fixed him with a stern glare.
“You wait here for now,” Thorin whispered brusquely. When Kili started to
protest, Thorin gave him a sharp shh! and said, “You can see him in a minute.”
Kili was at a loss for words. He had no fight left.
Then as Thorin disappeared into the bedroom, Kili sank back to his place on the
floor.
* * * * *
Thorin gently closed the bedroom door behind him. He joined his sister and
nephew by the bed, trying not to think on the very real possibility that he
might never see Fili again.
From a place of comfort tucked into the pillows and blankets, Fili looked up at
Thorin and gave him a weary sigh. Then he smiled faintly and reached out for
his uncle. Thorin took up Fili’s scarred fingers in his own strong and healthy
hand. Then he kissed the knuckles of the boy he had come to cherish more than
any other dwarf in the world.
“Fili,” Thorin whispered. Then he was silent. Thorin pressed a kiss to Fili’s
forehead.
He did not know what to say. Dwarves did not die slow deaths. Dwarves died on
the battlefield or in mines or in bringing new life into the world. But now,
the only dwarf he had ever loved was slipping away before his eyes. He had no
words for how to ease Fili’s passing except perhaps a single, simple truth.
“You are loved.”
“I know,” Fili said quietly. “I love you, Uncle.”
“I wish things could have been different, my boy,” Thorin confessed. “I am so
sorry for my part in this.”
“No.” Fili said. “It’s no one’s fault but his.”
Thorin shook his head sadly, but said nothing to that.
“Is he...” Thorin trailed off. He realized then that he did not want to know,
but Fili seemed to have anticipated his question.
“He’s awake,” answered Fili. “He’s angry, but he can’t hurt me. Not at the
moment.”
“What’s different?”
Fili placed his free hand on his mother’s vambrace. “You’re both here.”
“Fili, my son.” Dis was warm strength personified. “We will not leave you
again.”
Thorin watched his sister and her son exchange a brief look whose meaning he
was not privy to. Dis had a small and gentle smile on her face. It was not an
expression that she had been born with. Her natural smile was wide and wild,
and she had given it to her younger son. But this smile, the gentle smile, had
been a gift from her mate. The last time Thorin had seen that smile, it had
been worn by his brother-in-law. But now, both mother and son shared the same
expression. It reminded Thorin that he had never told Fili the whole truth
surrounding Erili’s death.
“Fili?”
At the sound of his name, Fili turned to his uncle.
“Do you remember what I told you about Erili?”
Fili’s smile faded and he pulled his hand away. Then he threaded it through his
hair and left it resting on the back of his neck. “I remember,” he said
quietly.
“What do you remember?”
Fili gave him a tired but pointed look. Then he sighed and said what little
knew. “I remember you two left to hunt some thieves. They had stolen mithril
and you wanted it back. You were ambushed. Then Father died.”
“There’s more to it than that.” Thorin looked at Dis and she gave him a slow
nod. Now, with permission to share the truth, he turned back to Fili. “Your
father died to save the life of someone he loved. He died so that…” Thorin
trailed off. He had never, ever told Fili explicitly what had happened because
it was so painful. He had never wanted to lay his own guilt for Erili’s death
upon Fili, for Thorin knew just how hard it was for a son to lose his father.
But now, Thorin had to tell the rest of truth. Fili had to know before he, like
Erili, slipped away forever. “Your father died so that I might live.”
Fili’s eyes widened and he exhaled a little in shock. Then he frowned.
“That hardly feels better than believing he died for mithril, Thorin,” he said.
“He is still dead.”
“I know,” Thorin said sadly. “We may have gone after the mithril at first, but
it became about much more than that. Erili did not die for mithril. Nor did he
die for glory or for song. He willingly threw himself to the enemy so that I
could escape. He chose to give his life for my freedom. Who was I to deserve
such sacrifice? I was Thorin the blacksmith. I did not deserve your father’s
death any more than any other dwarf. But your father, he loved me as a brother.
And because he loved me, as you love Kili, he gave me the gift of life.”
Fili let out a soft gasp and his eyes drifted closed. A tear slipped down his
cheek and disappeared beneath his chin. More tears followed. He made no move to
wipe them away.
Thorin pressed his hand to the back of his nephew’s head. It was a gesture of
love and despair for the undeserving souls who paid the price for life.
When his own tears finally came, Thorin did not stop them. Not this time. He
was done with running from his old and broken heart.
“Fili,” Thorin whispered. “I have never known a more honorable dwarf than your
father.”
Then he pressed one final, loving kiss to Fili’s forehead as a farewell.
And at last, he let Fili go.
He stood to leave. At the door, Thorin turned back and looked back at his
nephew.
“I want you to know, lad,” he said. “You are truly Erili’s son.”
* * * * *
Fili was quiet for a long time after Thorin left the bedroom. Then at last, he
turned to regard his mother. She returned his inquisitive expression with a
tired but attentive smile.
“Mother?”
“Yes, my love?”
“Is it true?”
She nodded faintly. “It’s true.”
Fili let his head fall back against the pillows. Thorin’s words and his
mother’s confirmation of their truth left him with an empty place in his heart.
It was as if a shard of icy bitterness that he had never known he carried had
been plucked out him and tossed away to melt upon the stone.
His misunderstanding of a crucial piece of his own personal history had been
shaped by his prejudices of the greed of his people. Fili had misjudged his own
father. He had assumed that Erili – the homeless, penniless singer without a
family of his own - was just as greedy as all their kind. But Erili had not
died for treasure or vanity or pride. Instead, he had given his life to save
one whom he called kin. For that, Fili could no more find it in him to resent
Thorin for Erili’s death than he could resent Kili for the gift that Fili had
given him.
He said as much to his mother, and she listened patiently.
“Of course you cannot resent him,” she said. “Kili no more asked for your
future than Thorin asked for you father’s life. Life is a series of tragic
accidents and unintended sacrifices. There is no changing that. There is only
recognizing when a gift has been given, willingly or no, for only then can you
be grateful for it. And every now and then, someone good and loving comes along
and makes a willing sacrifice for the future of one whom he – or she – truly
loves.”
“She?” Fili frowned. “You?”
“I’ve made my sacrifices, Fili.” She thumbed the short, coarse hair that had
begun its slow regrowth upon his cheek. “I may not have died for your future,
but that does not mean I have given up nothing in the name of love, child.”
Fili cocked his head at her. He had never thought of his mother as much more
than the comforting presence of home. But now, it was as if he was seeing her
in a new light. She was hard, sturdy, and apparently, self-sacrificing like
Father. Then it occurred to him that despite her warmth and gentleness, Mother
was a creature of stone, just like any other dwarf. Of course she was. But Dis
was also of the line of Durin, and she was made to withstand hardship. She was
made to endure. And she was not that different from the rest of their strong
kind.
Now, Fili was curious. He wanted to know her mysteries. “What did you give up?”
He asked.
Her eyes began to glisten and her smile grew pensive. “I’ll tell you another
time,” she said softly. “But for now, suffice it to say that I am at peace with
my past.”
Fili wanted to know more, but he let it go. It could wait.
Then another question came to him. This one was about Father. And the answer to
this one, he had to know now.
“Is Father alive in you?” He asked her. “I understand that… when a dwarf dies,
he lives on in his surviving mate. Is that true?”
“Yes,” said his mother. “It’s true.”
Fili let out a defeated sigh and closed his eyes.
In the little house in his forest, he took up a seat by the window and watched
the rain splatter against the glass. The grey clouds and the heavy rain dragged
the boughs of the dark trees down. As much as Fili knew that he could not stay
inside forever, so too did he now know that he would never escape this forest.
He would live out his days here, at the mercy of the storm, far from his people
and his family and all that was good in the world.
He would never get used to the rain. And one day, the rain would kill him.
“I cannot be free of him, then,” he said at last. “Even if Dwalin dies, he will
live on in me. He will always come for me.”
He opened his eyes again and fixed them on his mother. Her smile had faded and
now she was crying. She wiped her tears away as he spoke.
“He always likened me to gold,” said Fili. “Perfect, like gold. But gold is…
nothing but money. You cannot bring money with you into death. But it seems I
was wrong. He can take me into death, and because he can, he will.”
“Oh, son,” Mother whispered. She gave a sniff and pressed a kiss to his
forehead. “No he won’t.”
Fili frowned at her. “But you just said -”
“Erili sleeps,” she said, interrupting him gently. “That’s all he does now. He
is too weary for anything else.”
“What?” Fili sat up in bed and stared at her. Then he blinked, unsure if he’d
heard her right. “Truly?”
“He is always sleeping, unless I ask him to wake.” Her smile had returned. “And
when I do, he is himself, but very tired. He wants for nothing but rest.”
Fili stared at her, astonished. But then his small swell of hope soon faded and
the feeling quickly condensed down into the heavy weight of shame. He looked
away. Then he whispered, “Does he know what happened to me?”
His mother went quiet for a moment. Then she said softly, “He knows. But don’t
you fear, laddie.” Mother ran her thumb over the weak beard on his chin and
gently pulled his head back up. Once he met her eyes again, she pressed a kiss
to his nose. “You have never made your father anything but proud.”
* * * * *
Kili sat alone in the sitting room, staring at the floor.
Thorin had not been in the bedroom long, but when he had emerged, he’d looked
as though he was returning from a tomb. Kili had jumped up, fearing the worst,
but Thorin had stopped him from rushing in.
“He’s all right for now, Kili.” Thorin’s voice had been gentle. After what had
happened earlier, the kindness was jarring. “It’s best you don’t go in just
yet.”
Kili had looked longingly at the door, then back to Thorin. “I want to see him,
please?”
“Let him see Mother first,” Thorin had said. “When she comes out, you’ll have
your turn.”
“He’s not dying, is he?”
Thorin’s gaze had faltered. He’d dropped his eyes to the floor. “Not at the
moment, no.”
“But he could,” Kili had protested. “He could just… fade away. Into damnation.”
A pained expression had crossed over Thorin’s face at that. Then it had
disappeared behind Thorin’s typical, ugly frown.
“We’ll find Dwalin as soon as we can,” he had tried to reassure Kili. “We will
hunt him down together. It’s the first thing we’ll do on the field.”
That hadn’t been what Kili had wanted to hear. He’d sighed heavily and had made
to say something, but his mind had gone blank. He’d had nothing left to say to
Thorin anymore. Thorin never listened to him anyways. So Kili had bitten down
on his sorrow, had steeled himself as Thorin had wanted him to, and finally, he
had given his king a terse, obedient nod.
At that, Thorin had seemed satisfied. He’d pressed a hand to Kili’s shoulder.
Then he’d turned to go.
When Thorin had disappeared out into the hallway, Kili had been left alone to
resign himself to his fate. That had led him back to the floor. He now sat
there, head cradled in his hands. It seemed that here, on the floor, he was
bound to stay.
At last, the bedroom door opened again and Mother came into the sitting room.
When Kili looked up at her, she extended a hand to him and helped him to his
feet. Then she furrowed her brow and gently touched the cheek where Thorin had
reopened the wound she had given him.
“Forgive me, Kili,” she said sadly. “I didn’t mean to hit so hard.”
“It’s fine,” Kili murmured. He leaned briefly into her touch upon his cheek,
and then he pulled away. “Can I please see him?”
“There’s something I want to discuss with you first.”
Kili’s shoulders sagged and he let out a low, frustrated sigh. “He could die,
Mother!”
“Shh, Kili…” She shook her head. “He will not die in the next five minutes.”
Kili glared at her. “You don’t know that.”
“Fili will be fine for a while if he is kept calm.” She pushed the stray,
unbraided hair back from Kili’s face and tucked it behind his ears. “It was the
shock of what Gloin told him that caused this.”
“What!?” Kili’s mouth fell open. “I told Gloin not to say anything!”
“Kili, hush! That doesn’t matter anymore, let it go!” Mother dropped her voice
to a low murmur. “Fili knows that he has been disinherited. That means that the
beast inside him knows.”
“But… that means that…” The full weight of her meaning settled on his
shoulders. His misery suddenly curdled into dread. “Oh no…”
“If indeed Thorin is right,” she whispered, “and Dwalin is after the throne,
then he has no further use for your brother. He’ll just let him die.”
Kili’s heart was pounding. “Aye,” he said, “but there’s more.” When she gave
him a puzzled frown, he shared with her the ugly truth about Dwalin’s desires
for him in a terrified whisper. Immediately she understood the danger to Kili
given Fili’s disinheritance. “I’m afraid of what he’ll do if he finds me on the
battlefield.”
“Oh, no…” A deeply troubled frown formed on her face and she pressed a hand to
her mouth. Then she raised her eyebrows and her eyes went wide.
“What?” Kili asked her. “What’s that look mean?”
“He’s mated and he wants you,” she said. Then her shocked expression faded and
she let out a befuddled sigh. “I suppose stranger things have happened.”
Kili’s mouth fell open. He was incredulous. “You don’t care that he could come
after me!?”
“Of course I care!” she snapped, suddenly furious. “You are my son! I would die
to protect you, and I will, if it comes to that! But Kili” – she gave a
frustrated growl, then paused and regained her composure – “you must understand
something. What Dwalin did is so bad for our kind that his desires are now…
abnormal. Mated dwarves typically can’t mate outside their bond, but if what
you say is true, then Dwalin could seriously hurt you!”
“I thought the bond was permanent!” Kili cried, flustered and in over his head
all over again.
“It is permanent! But in rape, it’s flawed! It’s damaged and damaging!” She
calmed herself once more. “Dwarves don’t typically desire any other lover
beyond than their mate. But every bond is different between every mated pair.
Clearly, in this case… well, it’s led to strange desires. I’m not sure if there
are any hard rules about mating, even for our kind. Just as an uncut stone may
be carved into anything, so too can a dwarf be... perverted.”
Kili gave a low shudder. He was not sure if he was more horrified by the idea
of abnormal desires or the way Mother called them a perversion. Now, he grew
disgusted, but not with Fili or even with Dwalin.
“You hypocrite!” He slammed Dis up against the wall and yelled in her face.
“You whored yourself out for years and you sneer down your nose at what other
dwarves do with their bodies! How dare you!?”
“Dwalin is a rapist!” She shoved him back furiously. “That is perversion, Kili!
He is a predator who feeds off his own people!”
“And Fili!? Is he perverted, too!?”
Mother’s eyes went wide. Kili suddenly realized what he’d just said. He slapped
a hand over his mouth, but he was too late. His words had hit her hard and now
the color drained from her face.
“Ohhh Kili…” Mother curled her lip in a mix of shame and repulsion and sorrow.
Then she squeezed her eyes closed and the tears leaked down her cheeks. She
clenched a hard fist and pressed her knuckles to her forehead. She drew in a
long and shuddering breath and then let it out in a deep growl until her horror
had passed. At last she swallowed, wiped the tears from her eyes, and fixed a
frown on Kili that reminded him so acutely of whose sister she truly was.
“Kili,” she addressed him flatly. “Does he desire you?”
Kili gulped. He felt the flush of shame again and he dropped his eyes to her
feet.
“Answer me, son.”
“Yes,” he whispered. “He’s touched me.”
“Oh, my boy…” She pulled him into her arms. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he sniffed heavily as he returned her embrace.
It wasn’t okay, not really. It felt degrading to have Dwalin use Fili’s body to
abuse him. But deep down, Kili knew that it was Dwalin who was trying to hurt
him, not his brother. Fili would never hurt Kili as Dwalin could, and would.
And to be truthful, as bothered as Kili was by the molestations, Fili was far
more ashamed of them than Kili was. But he wasn’t going to tell that to Mother
just yet.
“I don’t think he can help it,” Kili said quietly. “I don’t… know if he can
control feeling that way.”
“No, he can’t.” She pushed him back gently and placed her hands on Kili’s
shoulders. “We can no more control our desires than we can control some of the
things that happen to us. You know that.”
Kili frowned and chewed on his lip. “But that doesn’t make it okay,” he said
slowly. “Does it?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Desire is not okay or right or even wrong on its
own. The trouble arises in how you act upon those desires. Dwalin acts out of
hate. He is a creature of hatred.”
“And Fili?” Kili asked. “What is he now?”
“Your brother is as good and as true as he always been.” The tears came back to
her eyes. “He has always acted out of love and decency and kindness. He
deserves to live, no matter what Dwalin has done to him.”
“Do you think Fili’s wrong?”
“For what, child?”
When he didn’t answer, she suddenly understood. Then she dropped her eyes and
blinked uncomfortably at the floor.
“For desiring… for wanting you?”
“Aye,” Kili whispered.
“Oh, Kili…” She closed her eyes then and seemed to retreat into a dark place in
her memories. Then she shook her head and fixed Kili with the steely stare of
Durin’s Line. “There are worse fantasies than that. Believe me, you do not want
to know. And I will never tell you, so don't ask.”
Kili felt stupid all over again. “There’s always more to the story,” he said
unhappily, “isn’t there?”
“That’s not a bad thing, Kili.” Mother frowned at him contemplatively. “It
means that there is always more to learn. As you go through life, you sooner or
later discover that as well as you know a person, you can never know entirely
what he or she is thinking, or what motivates her actions, or the things that
he might say. You can only trust that most people act out of an intent to do
good, or at the very least, not to do harm.”
Kili sighed heavily. Dwalin came to mind. But then, Kili couldn’t help but to
suddenly think of Thorin.
“I don’t know if I believe that anymore, Mother.”
“Oh, Kili! Why ever not?” The tears spilled from her eyes and her voice dropped
to a mournful murmur. “Because of Fili?”
“Of course, because of Fili!” He gave something of a sad whine as he buried his
face again in Mother’s braids. Then he began to weep against her neck. “I can’t
live without him! If he dies… if he dies… Oh, I don’t know if I can go on.”
Through his tears he then revealed Thorin’s plan for a future without Fili in
it. As he spilled everything to his mother, she held him close and listened. He
shared with her how miserable it truly made him. As he spoke, his thoughts
seemed to coalesce into an understanding that Fili, Kili, and in some ways,
even Thorin were paying the price for Dwalin’s crime. Because of Dwalin, Fili
would suffer a slow, torturous death and might be damned to nothingness.
Because of Dwalin, Kili was now fated to an unhappy life at Thorin’s side, in
Thorin’s bed, and eventually, on Thorin’s throne. Because of Dwalin, Thorin
would live out his days with the mate he never wanted, always mourning the
death of the love he should have had. But Dwalin, evil Dwalin, he would simply
cease to exist. That seemed like a mercy compared to the ruined lives of
Durin’s sons.
When he finally finished, both Kili and his mother were silent. The only sound
in the room was the soft rustle of their breathing, slow and hitched with tears
for the dying future of their line.
“Thorin doesn’t love me,” Kili said at last. He pulled back from Mother and
wiped the tears away. “He doesn’t want me, not as an heir and not as a mate.
But he thinks he’s doing the best. Dwalin fucked him, too.”
“Oh, Kili…” She picked up his hand and flattened his palm beneath hers across
his heart. “You see so much, son. So much more than you think you do.”
Kili hung his head, ashamed. “Then why can’t I see a way out of this?” he asked
her. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”
She sighed heavily and fixed him with a pensive frown. Then when she spoke
again, her voice was stoic, strong.
“Thorin does love you,” she said. “He truly does. But he is responding to
everything that has happened on this journey as well as his own troubled past.
He does not know how to express his love, especially to you, Kili. For you,
love is not locking you in a cage to protect you from the world. Not any more,
not when you are grown and no longer a helpless little dwarfling.”
“I am a dwarfling,” Kili said miserably. It was still true, technically if not
in practice. “But even after I come of age, he’ll mate with me and then he’ll
never think of me as a grown-up.”
“That’s because you’re so different than him,” said Mother. “You are carefree,
Kili. Thorin is… unyielding in his ways. He has suffered so deeply that he
guards what’s left of his heart and does not give it away. But you, my child,
you need a mate who will give you his or her heart as freely as you give yours.
For you, love is a gift to be given, not to be taken. It is vulnerable, it is
trusting, and it is equal. And only then will it temper you, as it tempered
me.”
“Mother…” Kili frowned and rubbed his nose. “How will I give my heart away if
Thorin takes it?”
“You already have.” Mother kissed his burn scar. “You gave Fili your heart when
you risked everything to save him. And he gave his to you when he turned
himself over to Dwalin for your freedom. You truly and deeply love each other.
Your souls are already bonded in every way but one.”
Kili made to say something, but he stopped. He was suddenly astounded.
“Bonded, as in… the bond? Can that happen?”
“I didn’t mean literally, Kili.” She gave him a funny look. Then she frowned
and blinked a few times. Finally she said, “But I suppose if you really felt
the need, you could find out.”
“I…” He gaped at her. “Really?”
Her face suddenly split into a wide, tear-streaked smile. “Oh, Kili… You really
are a wild one.” She pressed her hand to his cheek and shook her head at him.
“Whatever was Thorin thinking, choosing you as a mate?”
He mouthed wordlessly at her, confused. Was she really encouraging him to do
what he thought she was?
As if she had sensed his thoughts, she laid her hand over his heart and said,
“You know what you must do to try and save your brother’s life. He will die
without help. You may be the only one able to help him because of the
circumstances. The choice is yours. And whatever the consequences, they are on
your shoulders and no one else’s.”
“What if something goes wrong?” Kili asked. “What if… I don’t know. Something
bad happens?”
“No matter what, you are my son, and I will never love you any less than I do.”
She wiped away her tears as the grittiness returned to her eyes. “I will be at
your side in combat today, Kili. As will Thorin, as will Dain, as will five
hundred of our people. Our people. No harm will come your way from Dwalin.
This, I promise you.”
She kissed him on the forehead and when she pulled away, her eyes shone in a
way that reminded him of Fili.
“Now, go see your brother,” she said. “The war can wait.”
***** Chapter 32 *****
Chapter Notes
     Please note that this chapter contains explicit sexual violence,
     sadomasochism, blood-play, and D/s.
     Update on 5-20-13: Please also note that the comment section at the
     end of the chapter includes graphic, to-the-point discussions about
     the physiological damage of violent rape that some may find extremely
     triggering. Read the comment section at your own discretion.
“Fili!”
Fili jumped when he heard the door slam shut across the room. After so much
gentleness from Mother and Thorin, Kili’s presence was startling in its energy.
Breathless, Kili leapt into the bed and clambered onto Fili. His eyes still
shone from crying, but beneath the moisture was an urgent, desperate epiphany.
“I know what to do!”
Fili stared wordlessly at his brother, still recovering from Kili’s entrance.
“We have to forge a bond.”
“What!?” Fili scrambled to sit up in the bed. Kili helped him. Once upright,
Fili glared fiercely at Kili. “That’s wrong, Kili!”
“Why?” Kili scowled stubbornly at Fili. “Give me one good reason why it’s
wrong.”
“Because… because you’re my brother!”
“That’s not a good reason.”
“Kili, I’m mated! Dwalin would…” An image of twin collars flashed in his mind.
“Oh, no. No, no, no. He wants you – I won’t let him have you!”
“He’ll come for me anyways!” Kili cried. He buried his face in his hands and
gave a desperate moan. Then he choked back his tears. “He’s outside. And we’re
going to war.”
“What?!” Fili gasped. “Oh, no…”
“Armies of elves and men are on the mountain as we speak.”
“Wha…” Fili trailed off. He rubbed his hand worriedly over the scar on the back
of his neck. “If Dwalin’s on the mountain, how did I not know that?”
“I don’t know,” Kili admitted. “Maybe he sees more through you than you do
through him.”
“But I knew Dain was here,” Fili protested. “Oh, but then… Dwalin hates Dain.
He despises him. He saw Dain and got angry, but I didn’t actually see him. Oh,
Kili!” Fili’s heart was suddenly racing. “He sees what I see but I can’t see
what he sees! How did he get so powerful?”
“The bond!” Kili set his jaw and glared fiercely at Fili. “He’s draining you
through that bond!”
“Then – then… Won’t he drain you, too? I can’t risk that!”
“No.” Kili said stubbornly. “It’s a different bond. I think.”
“You 'think!?' Kili…” Fili shook his head. “This isn’t a good idea. He’ll find
you!”
“That doesn’t matter anymore!” Kili balled his hands into fists and pressed
them to his temples. “He’ll find me anyways. But you, Fili - You need strength
to fight him. I can give you that.”
“He’ll claim you, brother!” Fili cried. “He’ll destroy you!”
“He can try. But we're fighters, both of us. We can fight him off.”
“He's too powerful!”
“No! You take him in your mind” - Kili tapped Fili in the forehead - “And I’ll
take him out there, with Mother and Thorin and Dain. he’ll be distracted. In
two places at once. No one can fight like that, not even him! Can you think of
another way?”
Fili racked his mind for a solution, but nothing came to him. “I… I… I don’t
know,” he stammered. “I don’t think so.”
“Then let’s do it.”
“How!? You’re not even of age!”
At that, Kili blinked. Then he dropped his eyes and reddened. “I can take you
in me.”
“Oh, no… I can’t do that to you. It hurts so badly, Kili!”
“I don’t think it has to,” said Kili. “There has to be a way to do it that
doesn’t hurt. Doesn’t there?”
“I don’t even know if I can,” Fili whispered. He barely got off without being
penetrated. He never got off without some sort of pain. “I don’t know if I can…
function. Or if the bond will even take. Oh, Kili…”
Kili wiped his eyes and chewed on his fingernails, as terrified as Fili was.
Like that, Kili was anything but arousing. There was nothing attractive about a
whiny little brother, sniffling heavily and face screwed up in worry.
But then Kili dropped his hands into his lap and gave Fili the saddest look
that Fili had ever seen. It was immediately apparent that Kili was no longer a
child. He was an adult, in experience if not yet in body. The truth that Kili
revealed next said exactly that.
“You’re dying, Fili.”
Fili gave a soft exhale at Kili’s revelation. He dropped his head back against
the wall.
Somehow he’d already known. But hearing it in Kili’s voice seemed to make it
true. His fear slipped away from him and he was suddenly left with nothing but
a simple fact. Then it ceased to matter.
“Maybe it’s not so bad,” he said quietly.
“No, it’s terrible!” Kili shook his head furiously. “If you die before he does,
your soul is damned.”
Fili had no response to that. His end, it seemed, was to be a return to the
void for all time.
That meant his life had been pointless.
Fili was a prince, and he had once been Thorin’s heir. He had been born to die
in battle. He should have gone down covered in blood and grievous wounds in
defense of his people. But now, he was nothing, and so his death would be for
nothing. There was neither glory nor honor in the fade of a fragile, bedridden
thing. There would be no songs for Fili, just as there had been none for Erili.
There would only be submission to a meaningless, worthless end. And even in the
afterlife, Fili, son of Dis and Erili, would be absolutely nothing, as if he
had never existed.
But there were worse things to live through than nothingness.
“I’ve been to damnation,” Fili said softly. “It’s not so terrible.”
“But Fili!” Kili protested. “You don’t have to go that way! If we can forge a
bond, I’ll have a part of your soul in me. Even if you die everywhere else,
I'll keep you alive! And I know that when I die, I’ll be buried with honor.
Then I’ll take you with me into the Halls of Mandos.”
“Kili, I don’t think it’ll even work,” Fili said sadly. “Dwarves mate once,
little brother.”
Kili scowled at him. “You don’t know that.”
“It’s everything I’ve read and heard,” Fili said. “And I’m mated. I know what
the bond feels like. It is forged once, and only once.”
“How do you know if you’ve never tried to forge a second?”
“Because…” Fili trailed off. Now that he thought about it, he didn’t actually
know. He’d never seen it mentioned. He’d never even heard rumors. So he’d just
assumed it was impossible. Still, he shook his head skeptically. “I’ve spent
half my life in books, Kili. I’ve never seen anything to the contrary.”
“Life is not in your books!” Kili snapped. “You can’t just read about life, you
have to live it! That means trying things that have never been done before!” He
threw up his hands in resignation. “I don’t know if it’ll work, either. It
probably won’t. But at least we can try.”
“Kili…” Fili whispered. “I don’t want to risk you to him.”
“He’s gonna make us take that risk,” said Kili, determined. “The only thing we
can do is fight back.”
Fili went quiet. “We never do stop fighting,” he said. “Do we?”
“I dunno,” Kili said. Then he shrugged dejectedly. “No. We don’t. But you’ve
got to know who you’re fighting for, and what you’re fighting for.” An
expression of deep misery that Fili had never seen before in his brother passed
over Kili’s features. “I won’t lie to you. It’s not just for you. I need you. I
need you to live.”
“Kili…” Fili brushed Kili’s messy hair out of his face. “I am not worth your
future.”
“Yes, you are.” Kili sniffled heavily. “But it's more than just that. I need to
be bonded before I come of age. Otherwise…” He trailed off.
Fili waited for Kili to finish. At last, he did.
“Thorin’s going to mate with me.”
Fili sighed at the old, long-dead pain of what might have been. Then he let it
go.
“He would be a good mate, Kili,”
“For you,” Kili said, frown deepening. “Not for me. He doesn’t love me like he
loves you. He always treated me like I was second rate, and like I didn’t know
how to take care of myself.” When Fili raised his eyebrows at his brother, Kili
stammered and rephrased his statement. “I mean, he never trusted me to be
responsible, so I never learned how.”
“Yes you have. Look at you.” Fili pressed his palm to Kili’s cheek above the
burn. “You saved my life. More times than you know, you’ve saved me.”
“You saved me, Fili.” Kili sniffled softly and turned into Fili’s touch. “Now
we can save each other.”
“I love you, little brother,” said Fili. “But I don’t want your sacrifice.”
Kili narrowed his eyes. “You don’t get to tell me what sacrifices I can choose
to make,” he said. “I didn’t ask for yours. But you gave it anyways. Now, I
want to help you the only way I know how. Please, Fili…” He pressed a chaste
kiss to Fili’s palm and let his eyes fall closed. “Please don’t leave me
alone.”
Fili sniffed softly against the sadness that had settled inside him. Though he
hated the thought of leaving Kili alone, that had become a reality, an
inevitable conclusion. But now, the prospect of leaving Kili to a fate that
seemed so similar to his own was unbearable in its tragedy. It did indeed seem
that if Fili died now, Kili would die, too, and both brothers would be a pair
of souls lost to the insatiable hunger for power.
But now, through their love for one another, they had a chance for a future – a
future for Fili that was without Dwalin, a future for Kili that was free from
Thorin. And maybe, eventually, they could both rediscover that in their freedom
together, they had lives worth living for.
Out of arguments, Fili gave a heavy sigh. He really had nothing to lose. There
was only life to gain.
So at last, as a sign of his consent, Fili gave his brother a gentle smile.
Then he whispered, “Okay.”
Kili’s jaw dropped in shock. Then he burst into a beaming grin and kissed Fili
on the mouth.
Kili’s lips were soft on Fili’s. Kili was warm and familiar, but also foreign.
Fili had never kissed his brother this way, never on the mouth, and even now,
his heart was starting to thump in his chest with the strange sensation. But
then, when Fili parted his lips and Kili deepened the kiss, the feeling that
came with it was perfect, blissful. Fili wrapped his thin arms around Kili’s
torso as he cherished the taste and feel of love. And when Fili slid back down
onto the mattress, he took his brother with him and they shared in a new
beginning.
As they kissed, Kili ran his hands over Fili’s chest. He did not seem to care
that his brother was bony or scarred or frail. And when he pulled back, he was
breathing deeply and smiling. Then he whispered with a shy laugh, “I don’t know
what I’m doing.”
“I don’t either,” Fili admitted, a little breathless. He had been Dwalin’s mate
for months, but this all felt virginal and new. “I’ve never… I don’t know.
Wanted it.”
A brief look of sadness passed through Kili’s eyes. Then it was gone.
“Should I… what do I do?” Kili bit his lip and looked down at Fili, then back
up, unsure.
Fili looked at the place where their bodies met. Kili was soft in his trousers
and wholly unaroused, but Fili was beginning to stiffen. When he met Kili’s
eyes again, the look on Kili’s face – his big eyes yearning and his supple lip
drawn up between his teeth - gave Fili a sudden, intriguing idea.
“That,” Fili murmured. “Your mouth.”
Kili furrowed his brow, but then he nodded and crawled off Fili. “Okay.”
Fili fumbled his fingers in the lacing of his trousers. Kili pushed Fili’s
crippled hands aside and deftly undid the laces. Breathing heavily, nervously,
Kili helped pull the trousers down until Fili was free. Then with one final
glance up at his brother, Kili parted his lips and brought them down around
Fili’s manhood.
Fili let out a low gasp of pleasure at the sudden wet warmth of Kili’s mouth on
his sex. He had never been touched like this, but now he knew why Dwalin liked
it. Kili was hesitant and unskilled at first, but then as Fili grew to full
hardness in his brother’s mouth, Kili found a delightful rhythm to his
ministrations and Fili involuntarily thrusted into the blissful, painless
pleasure.
Kili gave a soft grunt as Fili hit the back of his throat, but he did not stop.
He kept going, almost encouraged. He looked up at Fili through the dark curtain
of his hair.
Fili gasped, transfixed. No sight had ever been so alluring as what he was now
seeing. Kili had locked his wide and innocent brown eyes on Fili. His hair was
disheveled and his beautiful lips were stretched taut around Fili’s girth. As
Kili bobbed his head and lathered the underside of Fili’s cock, his eyes gave a
little involuntary flutter, and Fili gasped in pleasure at the sight and feel
of Kili’s gift.
“Ah, that…” Fili gave a soft moan as Kili tongued his foreskin. Encouraged,
Kili swallowed him up again until his lips were pressed to Fili’s pelvis.
“That’s amazing… Ah!”
Kili gave a soft little laugh and the vibrations made Fili moan with the rising
pleasure.
Then something opened up inside of him. Fili gasped as the dread washed over
him.
“Oh no…” he whispered. “Dwalin!”
Kili popped Fili out of his mouth and shouted, “No!”
Fili’s arousal had awoken his mate. Now, Dwalin’s confusion began to twist into
jealous wrath as he caught Fili in the act of infidelity. The storm was coming
back. Now, it was coming back fast.
Fissures ripped open in the stone walls of the bedroom. The vines raced up
between the cracks and greedily began to consume the little room and everything
in it.
“Kili, we have to do this now!”
Kili jumped up and tore open the inseam of his trousers. Exposed, he planted
one foot on either side of Fili’s waist, squatted down, and positioned himself
with Fili at his entrance. Kili’s face screwed up in concentration as he bore
down. Then Fili felt the muscles at Kili’s entrance give way. Suddenly, his
length was disappearing up into the tight heat of his brother’s body.
Kili’s eyes went wide and he cried out loudly as he took Fili into him. Tears
began to well up in Kili’s eyes, but he was determined. He refused to stop
inching his way down until he had Fili fully ensheathed inside him.
Fili moaned with the sensation of being inside Kili. Then as Kili began to
move, Fili arched his back and curled his fingers in the writhing vines. Waves
of delight spread up through Fili’s body. It was like nothing he had ever felt
before. It was so deeply pleasureable, so freeing, so painless. There was
nothing in the world that had ever felt so good.
But then he looked into Kili’s face. Kili was in pain. He was in agony.
Then suddenly, it felt wrong. It was so horribly wrong. The price of Fili’s
pleasure was Kili’s suffering. He had never wanted to hurt him. Not at all.
Fili started to soften. The good feelings began to subside. Then the want and
need and sensuality began to fade into discomfort as the trees closed in around
them.
“Fili, no!” Kili struck him hard in the face. The sudden pain sent a jolt to
Fili’s cock and he was instantly hard again. “You’re not his, you’re mine!”
Fili let out a low groan of pleasure at that word – Mine.
By Mahal, Fili loved to be a possession. Now, he was Kili’s. And Kili was his.
“Do it again!” Fili cried. “Hit me!”
Kili smacked him again, harder this time. Then, as if knowing what Fili needed,
he grabbed hold of his brother’s wrists and pinned him down into the dirt as he
began to move. Tears were leaking from Kili’s eyes, but he refused to let up.
He gritted his teeth and set his own hard, fast rhythm as he rode his brother’s
cock.
Kili seemed to take little pleasure in what he was doing, but he was completely
in control. That was all that Fili wanted – to be controlled. It didn’t matter
then who was doing the penetrating or being penetrated. It was all about power,
and all about Fili giving in to it. And this time, his beloved would not abuse
his strength. Fili trusted Kili. He trusted him more than anything. And he knew
that if he wanted it to stop, Kili would stop immediately.
This was not rape. It couldn’t be. He had never been taken without being raped,
but this time, the act was different. This was lovemaking. And for the first
time, Fili was wholly and completely without fear of his mate.
But still, the storm was coming.
The clouds closed in around them as they fucked hard on the forest floor. It
began to rain. The lightning would come soon. If they were not finished by
then, the storm would destroy them both.
“Kili, you need to hurt me!”
“I don’t want to!” Kili cried through his gritted teeth. “He does that!”
“It doesn’t matter! Just fucking hurt me!”
Kili cringed at the demand. But then he drew in a deep breath and let out a
howl of fury. He punched Fili hard in the face. Fili moaned in pain and
pleasure and his hips gave an upward thrust into Kili’s tight warmth. Then Kili
fisted his big hand in Fili’s hair and pulled back to expose his pulsing
throat. He sucked hard on the sensitive flesh of Fili’s throat and shoulder,
then sunk his teeth into the muscle above Fili’s collarbone and lathered Fili’s
blood with his tongue. The sensation of it washed through Fili as Kili rode him
hard, and he groaned deeply at the sharp contrast between the agony and
ecstasy.
His body seemed to thrust up on its own, but from his place on the ground, Fili
couldn’t move much. Kili had more power over the motion than Fili did. That was
no deterrant. In fact, it was erotic. Fili was sheathed within Kili, but Kili
was in control. It was subversive, unexpected, and Fili was thrilled by it.
The pleasures given and pain taken through their coupling made something
blissful and needy uncoil inside of Fili. He was getting close. The
thunderclouds began to crash overhead, but Fili was nearing climax. All he
needed was one final push to get him over that hurdle.
“Hurt me, Kili! Anything!”
Kili obeyed. He grabbed hold of Fili’s nipples through his shirt and twisted
hard. The searing fire shot through Fili and tipped him over the edge. He lost
control of the mounting pleasure and he shot his seed hard into Kili’s
passageway. A loud moan tumbled out of Kili’s bloodied mouth. Kili dropped his
head back and he clenched his muscles around Fili, wringing him free of his
spiking waves of orgasm until Fili had nothing left to give.
With a groan, Kili collapsed onto Fili’s chest. Fili had never felt such
pleasure in his life. Nor had he ever thought to be able to finish without
Dwalin. But he had. He had planted the seed. And now all that was left were the
words.
“You are my mate, and I am yours,” Fili gasped in Kili’s ear.
Kili grabbed Fili’s face and fixed him with a piercing glare. “You are my mate,
and I am yours.”
Lightning flooded the sky as indescribable pain ripped through Fili’s being. He
gasped and looked down at himself in horror as the consummation cracked him
open like a stone. His frail, broken body began to crumble. Blinding white
light pierced through the cracks in his skin and chased away the shadows of his
forest. He screamed as he split apart, disintegrating into dust as his soul
burst free from its shell.
Everything around him began to glow in a burning white light. The trees were
consumed by the white flame and the dirt around him burned away into
nothingness. Even the sky began to burn, growing brighter and brighter until it
was a scalding white.
Fili had swallowed the sun. Now it was destroying him. Everything but Kili
disappeared into the white.
Then Kili began to glow, for Kili was the sunlight.
Suddenly desperate, Fili grabbed for his brother, but he no longer had hands.
Fili screamed but he had no voice. Though he had no eyes, Fili could see the
look of terror on his brother’s face as Kili’s heart cried out through the
newly forged bond as if screaming, What have we done!? By Mahal, what have we
done!?
And then, like everything else in the world, Kili was gone.
Fili was suddenly drifting in a pure white void.
He had been here before. But that time, the void was black. And that time, he
had never wanted to leave.
Now he did. He wanted life. In all its ugliness and brutal pain, he wanted
life, for only in life was there love. Only in life was there goodness. Life
was all he had – it was all he had ever had. And now, he would fight with every
last fiber of his being to get it back.
He had to get out of the void. The blackness had been cut with sunlight, but
this void was sunlight. Where there was only light, he needed darkness.
He knew it would find him eventually. Unlike light, he did not need to seek out
the darkness.
So Fili waited. He waited for his dark mate to come grasping for him in the
light. Then, when Dwalin pulled Fili back to the forest that would be their
battlefield, he would be ready to die for freedom and to fight for life and
love.
True to his nature, Dwalin came quickly for him.
A sudden dark spot appeared out of nowhere in the white. It spread like a
blood-black stain through a pristine white sheet. Fili drifted towards it. He
steeled himself to face it.
The stain grew and as he drew nearer until he could see through it like a
window into his forest. When he reached it, he forced his soul back into the
world of his mind. Then he was suddenly back in his body, lying beneath and
still ensheathed in his brother.
Kili was naked and drenched by the rain and was gasping in alarm. He quickly
pulled himself off of Fili and tumbled away into the mud. Then he scrambled
back in horror.
Wait!
When Fili reached for Kili, he caught sight of his hand. Whole. Perfect. He
touched his hands to his head and face. He found his braids and beard and
mustache, all restored and dripping in the rain. He looked down at his body. He
was naked and covered in mud, but muscled and strong and beautiful.
His perfection was marred only by the gold and mithril chain that extended down
from his beneath his jaw.
His hands flew to his throat. There he felt it – Dwalin’s collar. He realized
then that it was he who had always been in the collar.
Not Kili. Never Kili.
His eyes shot to his brother. Kili was still unchained, but not for long.
Kili, RUN!
Kili leapt to his feet and took off sprinting through the rain. Then Kili’s
body burst into a searing flash of light and he transformed into a black
stallion. The free and unconquerable creature galloped through the trees and
disappeared into the forest as he ran back to the world of the living.
Fili was alone now in the woods. Naked. Chained.
Then he froze as he heard the low, dark chuckle behind him.
Thank you, m’love, for bringin’ him to me.
Dwalin stepped around Fili and knelt down to him in the mud. His lecherous grin
spread slowly over his features. He held up the open mithril collar and waggled
it in front of Fili’s face. Then Dwalin traced a hand over Fili’s cheek. He
pressed his mouth to Fili’s throat between the collar and Fili's ear.
He’s yours now, Dwalin murmured, and what's yours is mine. It’s only a matter
of time before I claim him, too.
***** Chapter 33 *****
Chapter Notes
     Please note that this chapter contains graphic depictions of violence
     and warfare.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
 
Kili jerked himself out of Fili’s mind and back to the bedroom, gasping. He
stared down at his unconscious brother in quiet shock.
Fili was newly marked with the wounds that Kili had given him. He was still as
a corpse except for the slow rise and fall of his chest. He was softening
within Kili’s body, spent.
Kili tasted blood. Fili’s blood. He wiped it out of his mouth. He gave a sharp
exhale as he pulled himself free. As he did so, Fili’s seed slid out of him.
Then Kili got up, cleaned the filth from his thighs, and traded his torn
trousers for clean ones.
He ignored the lingering physical sensations that had come from the act. It
hadn’t felt good. In fact, it had hurt badly, but maybe not quite as much as
he’d expected. And like most pain, he could endure that too, and soon enough he
was fine.
It only took a little more effort to push aside the emotions that Kili now felt
within him. He knew most of them and they felt just as strong as always, but
now, he had the distinct feeling that he could manage them. What had once been
a roiling mess of chaos was now an endless collection of unique and distinct
components that could be assessed and characterized and used as tools for his
advantage.
He didn’t know where to start. He didn’t even have time right now to make sense
of any of the feelings. But despite Fili’s rational presence that imposed a
discreteness onto Kili's feelings, he could briefly block out the tempering
influence and feel a bit more like himself.
He closed his eyes and focused on his heart. Then he trusted it to decide what
to do next. As he did so, a few of the feels came up out of the mess. He took
hold of them as if picking up stones and turning them over in his hands. Then
he gave them a cursory evaluation to see how they might be of use.
The first and strongest of the feels he now assessed was a foreign one. It had
come from Fili, not from himself. The feeling was odd, novel. He tried to wrap
his thoughts around it. It was like the pleasure after a feast, the bliss of
contentment and fullness and knowing that one had guiltily gorged himself on
something rare and exotic. He didn’t quite know what to do with it. But with
Fili’s sense of self-control, he found that he could set the feeling aside
until he had more time to understand it.
He focused on the other few emotions he’d picked out. These ones, he already
knew. They were only different in that he could name them now, their source and
their influence on him, and how they might be useful.
Fear and courage came from Fili. Rage and vengeance were all Kili’s own. Only
now, he held them instead of being held by them, and as if forging them into
weapons and sheathing them on his person, he set them aside in his heart but in
a place within easy reach.
The final major feel was also a strange one. But unlike the first sensation,
this one was wholly his own.
He’d given away his innocence. He’d given it away by choice. Kili was still
underage, but there was no longer any question in his mind that he had left his
childhood behind.
The thought brought him back to a memory, back to a time of freedom before
everything had happened.
“Growing up means you have to go to war,” Fili had said that first night in Bag
End. “War means you have to kill people. I never want to have to kill anyone.”
Kili now knew through the bond just how much Fili hated the idea of harming
others. But he, Kili, was less compassionate than Fili.
He wanted to kill Dwalin. He would enjoy it, too.
And so, with the help of his new mate’s sense of self-control, Kili channeled
his own darkness into a deep sense of pleasure at the prospect of slaying the
beast.
It would not be easy. Dwalin was a master of the battlefield, and even with his
soul still embedded in Fili’s mind, he would be a terrible foe to face in a
fight to the death.
And yet, I still have the simpler challenge, Kili reminded himself. I have
allies, and my battlefield is real. Fili fights his war alone, and he fights it
in his head.
There were no rules in the mind, especially one as intricate and wild as Fili’s
had become. There would be no predictability. If Fili could imagine it, it
would exist in his head. That was a terrifying prospect, for anything could
happen.
The only comfort Kili had then was that Fili could not imagine himself out of
existence. But he could still die at Dwalin’s hands, and still might if Dwalin
was as entrenched in his mind as it had seemed during the mating act.
Kili knew now that if Dwalin won this final, crucial battle, Fili would be lost
until Kili died too and brought their souls into to the Halls of Mandos.
The troubling thought reminded Kili that now, there was nothing beyond what he
had already done that could help his brother. Through the bond, Fili had been
restored in strength of spirit, but beyond that, Kili could not give him much
more aid. The bond was young, fresh. It was significantly weaker than the bond
between Fili and Dwalin. And because of that, Kili now understood that no one
could help Fili now except for Fili himself.
“Fili…” Kili briefly touched his hand to Fili’s cheek. “You can defeat him,
brother. I believe in you.”
Fili did not stir. He was too deep within his mind to awaken until the war was
done.
Kili pressed his forehead to Fili’s and breathed in deeply through his
nostrils. It helped to calm his racing heart so he could get a sense of what to
do next.
As Kili suppressed his feelings, he found that they seemed to fade into a
background level of uniformity. Like viewing a mountain slope of pebbles from
up close and then stepping back to see it from a distant vantage point. But
there were still a few feels that he could not suppress entirely. Like boulders
in the slope. The more that he tried to suppress the feels, the more that one
emotion in particular seemed to capture his attention, until suddenly his heart
was fixed entirely on the singular emotion of righteous, glorious wrath.
He suddenly knew why Thorin was so full of rage. By suppressing his heart for
so long, he had become nothing more than bitterness and fury.
In war, rage was necessary. In war, bitterness was good. And now, Kili had to
go to war to save all that he loved and cherished. He only hoped that when his
battle was done, he could come back home to live in peace until the end of his
days.
“I will kill Dwalin’s body,” Kili whispered to his mate. “Then I’ll come home
to you. I promise, I’ll come back. I’ll be back, love. You’ll see.”
He kissed Fili on the mouth and brushed a hand through his hair. Then he stood,
went to the door, and claimed the festering evil in his heart as a weapon. With
a final backwards glance at Fili asleep in the bed, Kili steeled himself for
combat and left his brother alone.
* * * * *
In the sitting room, Dis was waiting for her son. She looked up as Kili came
through the bedroom door and closed it quietly behind him.
“Let’s go,” Kili said. “He’ll be fine ‘til we get back.”
“Did it work?”
He gave her a brief nod and made it a point to miss her expression. Then they
left for the armory.
Kili was calm as Mother arraigned him in a suit of armor made for a king. She
too was silent as she strapped him into his mail. It was a beautiful fit, built
for a dwarf both tall and lean. When she stepped back, having finished, he
tested it. The full plate moved easily with his joints and through much of his
range of motion. He rapped his gauntleted knuckles upon his steel shell with a
satisfied grunt.
It would be hard to get through to the flesh beneath without first killing him.
When he turned back to Mother, she held a broad sword, a fine darkwood bow, and
a full quiver of arrows. She also wore a slight frown. It reminded Kili of his
uncle.
“I cheated Thorin,” Kili murmured as he took the weapons and strapped them onto
his back. “Didn’t I?”
“Your future is your own, my son.” She gave him a wry half-grin. “No one has
the right to it but you. Fight and cheat to keep yourself free. You deserve to
live your own life.”
Kili couldn’t help but smile at her reassuring words. As he and his mother left
the armory for the secret door, Kili let her influence shape his blossoming
thirst for violence. Through the newly forged bond, he reached out for his
mate. When he touched Fili’s heart, Kili gave him Mother’s words as a feeling,
knowing that Fili would need them now for the war within his mind.
* * * * *
Fili stared at the mulch and dead leaves on the ground of his forest. He
breathed deeply, steadily, trying to make sense of every new sensation.
He felt good. Physically, mentally. Even the feel of Dwalin’s mouth on his neck
had ceased to be terrifying.
Through the bond, the new and perfect bond, Kili’s emotions had flooded into
Fili like a wild and untamed river. He could feel Kili’s heart as if it were
his own.
Kili felt something like Dwalin. Emotional, tulmultuous. But unlike Dwalin, who
was tainted by decay, Kili was clean and pure. His many emotions were like
streams of colored light that blended together until they were as pure and
vibrant as blistering white light.
Amidst the sensations that Kili had filled him with, Fili now felt something
that he had never felt before.
He frantically searched the forest for a sign of the feeling. Then his eyes
caught a depression in the soft decay on the forest floor. There, the singular
new emotion bubbled up out of the dirt like a spring and swelled into a
pristine pool that soon spilled over its threshold. The water kept flowing into
a glistening stream that carved its way through the trees, away from Fili and
Dwalin as it disappeared into the darkness of the woods.
Fili hardly recognized it at first, but then he knew it for what it was. And
now, he knew it would save him.
He needed Kili’s gift.
So Fili closed his eyes. He put on a small and loving smile and he leaned into
the touch of his mate. He kissed Dwalin on the mouth and traced his perfect
hand over Dwalin’s coarse beard. And there, in the arms of his Cherished One,
he embraced his new-found defiance.
He fisted his fingers in Dwalin’s whiskers and jerked down hard. Dwalin cried
out in surprise and reeled for a moment, off balance. He recovered quickly, but
by then Fili was on him. Fili brought his elbow down into the side of Dwalin’s
head. He smacked into him repeatedly until he drove Dwalin towards the ground.
Then he was up. He’d never moved so freely in his life.
Dwalin scrambled to his feet, roaring as he lunged at Fili. With a fierce yell,
Fili spun and brought his bare foot straight into Dwalin’s mouth, shattering
teeth beneath the blow and knocking his mate back. Then he ducked and skidded
down between Dwalin’s legs. He kicked up hard up into Dwalin’s groin. He kicked
again and again into Dwalin’s half-stiff manhood and sensitive, crushable balls
until Dwalin groaned in agony and finally crumpled to the ground.
As Dwalin fell, Fili jerked the chain free from his fingers. Then Fili took
off, running naked through the trees alongside the stream, the open mithril
collar now clenched tightly in his hand.
* * * * *
Kili followed his mother as she led him purposefully down through the caverns
of Erebor. He was alert, and everything around him was rich in his senses. The
heavy, dusty air of the kingdom lingered in his sinuses. The lush green marble
and rich veins of gold stood out as a reminder of the ancient heritage that
they were now going to war to protect. As they moved deeper into the mountain,
Kili’s heart thudded in rhythm with their footfalls until they reached the
long, dark corridor that led to the secret door.
Dis made to enter the passageway but Kili stopped her with a gauntleted hand.
“Mother?”
She turned back at the sound of his voice.
“Are you afraid?”
“Of course I am, son.” She fixed him with a stern and pensive gaze. “Aren’t
you?”
Kili was quiet at that. He didn’t know how to respond. He was afraid, but it
almost frightened him more to show fear in the face of his kin, even Mother.
Especially Mother, in some ways.
“I don’t know,” he said at last. “I don’t want to be.”
“Kili…” she dropped her voice to a whisper. “I know you, my sweet boy. You have
always run from your fear, and that only keeps you frightened.” When he felt
the heat rising in his cheeks, she added quickly, “Do not be ashamed of what
you feel. Only when you face your fear can you truly be courageous.”
“If he knows that I’m afraid, it’ll only make him stronger. He’ll feel my fear
through Fili.”
His mother frowned and gave a sigh. Then she put on her helmet, raised her
visor, and took Kili’s helm from him. She dropped her eyes to the helm as she
turned it over in her hands, examining it. The low light reflected off its hard
angles and the curve of its dome. The ornate array of gemstones and gold
embellishments decorating its rim glittered faintly. Then she shook her head
and handed the helm back to her son.
“I do not know if that is true.” She brushed the unruly dark hair out his eyes.
She pushed the long parts back behind his shoulders and tucked the front sides
behind his ears. “Only you can find that out, and only you can find the
strength within yourself to face him.”
Out of words, Kili could only give Mother something of a screwed up frown. Then
she smiled at him and lowered her visor.
“Let’s get this done,” she said.
Kili grinned at her again. Then he pulled the helm on over his head. He pressed
a hand to Mother’s back between her shoulder blades. Then together, they turned
into the secret passageway and moved into the darkness.
* * * * *
Thorin glanced up as he heard the sound of armored footsteps coming from deep
within the tunnel. He squinted in the low light as the last two armored dwarves
– Dis and Kili – joined the company. His sister and sister-son took their
places amongst the other dwarves. Kili between Ori and Bifur. Dis next to Dain
and Bombur. Then all were silent, still. Attentive members of a miniature army.
His proven warriors.
Only one was missing.
Thorin bit down hard on the pang of sorrow for the loss of his beloved. Then he
buried his dead heart beneath the bloodlust and the vengeance and the need to
kill to defend what was left of his people.
“We all knew when we set out from Ered Luin that it could come to this.” Thorin
met the eyes of each of his companions as he spoke. “Now, we all have our
reasons for going into war. I go for you, my brothers and sisters. I go for
those who rest in these ancient halls. I go to reclaim what ours, and to
protect the future of our people – the future of dwarves!”
Dain thrust his battleaxe into the air and bellowed out his war-cry. The rest
of the company erupted into the glorious song of warfare.
The sound was exhilarating. This was what Thorin was made for.
“For Erebor!”
“Aye, Erebor!”
“For Fili!”
Kili’s cry cut through all the others and his words rushed into Thorin like
lifeblood.
Thorin's fury burst out of him in a bellow louder than those of his dwarves. He
slammed himself against the secret door and it burst open and the searing light
of day cut into the passageway.
Then they were spilling out of the mountain, ready to face their doom.
Outside, the midday air was tinged with the scent of fire. The sun burned
through the grey and oily clouds. Thorin Oakenshield let the energy of the fire
fuel his hatred for the elves, for the men, for anyone who would steal from his
people.
Then he heard it – the distant whine of warhorn. Elvish. Despicable.
“Follow me!”
He rushed towards the sound and then he caught the scent. Blood on the icy air.
Tinged with smoke. The distant hum of death.
He suddenly stopped dead. The winter chill seemed to sweep through his bones as
he realized what was going on.
“By Durin’s Beard, the battle’s started without us!”
Another warhorn sounded out.
“Thorin, wait!”
Dain was suddenly at his side. Fierce eyes terrified.
“That’s an orc horn!”
“Thorin!”
Thorin spun at Kili’s voice. Then he saw them. Countless screeching beings. An
undulating wave of enemies tumbling down the mountain slopes like scree from
the northern side. Still far off, but not for long.
“We’re outnumbered!” Thorin cried. “We have to make it to the others!”
“To whom!?”
“My dwarves!” Dain took off running towards the southeast from the secret door.
Thorin stayed at his side until they came to a path up the slope.
"This way!" Thorin commanded.
Dain fell in behind with the rest of the company and they all followed their
king up the slope. The war sounds grew louder. Thorin’s mouth lathered with the
excitement and the exertion. It made him move harder, faster.
They crested the ridge. Thorin stopped cold. The field was in chaos. The ruins
of Dale overrun. Orcs everywhere.
Kili appeared by his side and gave a startled gasp. The lad had never seen war.
Nothing could have prepared him for this.
“Kili, get back into the fold!”
“But Thorin –”
“Do as I say!”
Kili scrambled back to the others and disappeared into the middle of the
company.
Thorin gave a furious cry that echoed off the slopes of Erebor and the ruined
walls of Dale. “To me! To me!”
The din of the war below seemed to quiet. He yelled again, louder this time,
his roar like a rallying horn. “Elves and Men! To me! O, my kinsfolk!”
The furious thunder of allied voices rumbled up from the deep of the
battlefield. Warhorns sounded above the roar of voices. Elf and Man and Dwarf.
All of them in harmony, drowning out the screeching of the orcs.
The sound was thrilling. It set his blood afire with the glory of righteous
war.
He raised his battleaxe and cried out the charge in Khuzdul. Then he led his
kin into the fray, each and every dwarf behind him ready to fight and die in
the name of their shared future.
The orc front reformed quickly in the valley, spears drawn towards the
company’s charge. The reserves of elves and men rushed up from the southeast
and southwest, breaking into the weakened southern flank. From the east, Dain’s
veterans, the long-lost kin from the Iron Hills, forced the orcs into the
valley.
The monsters were surrounded. They just had to kill them all.
Thorin drove his company as a wedge into the northwestern front. He dodged the
first orcish spear and a blow with his axe shattered the long haft of the
weapon. He then buried his weapon in the neck of the crouching spear bearer. A
gush of black blood splattered across his face. As the spear bearer went down,
he hacked the leg from another orc, parried with the creature's neighbor and
sliced that one open from groin to navel, and then he brought his axe down to
cleave the face of the one-legged orc. It collapsed gurgling to the ground.
His kin fanned out through the thick of combat. Dain and Balin to his left, Dis
and Kili and Bifur to his right. The others, too. He couldn’t see them all but
he knew his companions. Each took on one massive, monstrous enemy after
another. Each dwarf of his company was a true warrior. Some were seasoned,
others fresh and green, but all fought with the ferocity inherent to their
kind.
Thorin led his dwarves deeper into the field. Nothing could stop him. The
blades of the enemies seemed not to touch him as he shredded the attackers one
by one.
For every orc that fell, another seemed to appear in its place. Thorin hacked
them all down, but they did not stop coming.
They moved deeper. The roar and clash of steel was deafening now. The black and
red mist of blood thick in the burning air. He heard the bellow of a horn. Man
horn. Distant.
Too distant. There would be no aid for them now.
“Thraksnaga shaglob!”
Thorin gasped as he heard the familiar voice. The malice. The hatred.
“Athhôr mahmurukh!” Thorin bellowed. “Bukhubu!”
Instantly his company closed in at his sides. A circle of defenders.
Surrounded.
“Kili!” He frantically looked about until he saw him. Somehow Kili had lost his
helm. But he was whole, uninjured. “Ni’ghûrira! Amad!”
Kili and Dis disappeared into the center of the circle. The safest place. From
behind and to his left, Thorin heard one of Kili’s arrows whistle through the
air. He watched as it disappeared into the thick of the battle. Lost.
Targetless and wasted.
By Mahal, Kili!
Then Thorin heard it again. Bellowing his name.
Right flank.
He spun and there he saw the enemy. In the distance through the smoke. Azog’s
malicious grin spread over his features as he saw his prize. Thorin barely had
time to brace himself before Azog was barreling down upon him.
When they hit, they clashed hard in a one-on-one battle unto the death.
 
 
 
Chapter End Notes
     Translation notes on the Orcish and Khuzdul in this chapter:
     Orcish:
     Thraksnaga shaglob! - Literally, "Bring me contemptible fool!"
     Intended meaning, "Bring me my foolish enemy!"
     Khuzdul:
     Athhôr mahmurukh! Bukhubu! - Literally, "Muster to defend! To
     courage!" Intended meaning, "Defensive circle! Courage!"
     Kili! Ni’ghûrira! Amad! - Literally, "Kili! Into shelter! Mother!"
     Intended meaning, "Kili, get into the middle! Your mother, too!"
     I freely admit to just mashing words together with callous disregard
     for the rules of grammar. What can I say. Language is hard.
***** Chapter 34 *****
Fili sprinted through the trees led by Kili’s streak of defiance. As he had run
from Dwalin, he’d eventually outrun the terrible storm. Here the rains had
faded to little more than a dampening mist, and there was nothing in his forest
but the high trees and the grey sky above the canopy.
Not so terrifying without the storms, after all.
Still, he kept running. If he stopped, his mate would find him. He needed to
follow the stream.
As he ran, he eventually came to a place where he caught the smell of smoke on
the air. Through the mist he could see the thinning of the forest and the
distant slopes of hills that led up to a great mountain. The only one, the
Lonely One.
Here, near Erebor, the ancient trees had been burned many decades before. Sixty
years had passed since the new growth had sprouted from the ashes, but even
now, the air smelled of fire. Of ash and death and desolation.
This could not be Smaug. The devastation was not quite as total – but close.
He slowed to a jog. Here the earth ceased to be easy to run on. His feet
crunched upon the ground as if on crackling stone. He looked down and gasped as
he saw the bones. So many charred and blackened bones beneath his bare toes.
Breaking apart beneath the crushing weight of his footfalls.
The stream cut between the skulls of the ancient dead. So many different
creatures. Dwarf and elf and man and orc and other things that Fili could not
even name. They, the countless dead, the nameless ones who had died in wars of
ages past. So much war. So many pointless wars and all the death that came with
them.
But the stream still led him through the ancient battlefield. And now he knew.
He had to go to war. There was no other way. Dwalin would not stop. He would
never stop until he was dead, and Fili had to kill him.
Here in the mind, he had to destroy his mate.
There would be no joy in that, he realized. Somehow his mate had become a part
of him. A beloved part, the cherished part. But Dwalin’s love would kill him if
he did not kill Dwalin first. And so, Fili resigned himself to be a killer.
It was the only way.
As if in response to Fili’s acceptance of the inevitable murder, the storm
began to gather overhead. Dwalin had found him again amidst the desolation.
This time, his mate was here to stay.
Kili, help me!
Fili started sprinting again as the rain began to fall. The skeletons crumbled
beneath his feet into ashen mush that suckled on his toes. And then he saw it –
there again amidst the half dead woods. His house, the little stone house. A
burnt-out shell of its former warmth and comfort. The glistening stream had led
him here. The waters disappeared under the blackened front door into the husk
of the memory.
He darted inside, out of the gathering storm. In here, the ruin was blackened
and covered in ash. Overhead, the naked, charred beams in the ceiling could not
block out the rain. As the water dripped down into the cinders it washed away
the black ashes from the crumbling stone. Dwalin was washing away the last of
his memories. Consuming what remained of Fili’s conscious mind. He cried out in
despair, knowing that he was dying. He had to use his mind and all its power,
now. All of it, before he lost everything to the consumption that was Dwalin's
self-loving greed.
Father! I need you now!
As if stirred by the wind of his breath, the ashes in the center of the ruin
swirled up until they coalesced into an icy stone table. Upon the surface, they
had laid out his Father’s corpse.
Erili was still and serene upon the table. Cleaned and dressed in his armor for
the tomb. A battleaxe of mithril in his folded hands across his chest. A
beautiful creature, Father had been. The mirror image of his elder son but for
the single killing gash that had sliced through his perfect voice.
A hint of motion within the wound caught Fili's eye. He watched in horror as up
and out of the red wriggled the first of the little maggots. Then another. And
then Father was roiling in them. The larvae began to consume the corpse as
Fili’s memory of his father dissolved into the putrid mess of Dwalin's decay.
NO! You cannot have him!
He ran to the corpse and pulled the armor from the stinking rot. He threw the
metal onto his body beneath the chain of his captivity. The fit was perfect,
and the armor seemed to close itself around him without assistance. Then from
the reeking necrosis that was his once-fair kin, he pulled the reason for
Erili’s death from the crumbling finger bones. Finally, he wrapped Dwalin’s
chain around his chest. Then he tucked the end of the open mithril collar
securely into his belt.
Now, he was ready. Armed in the last vestiges of his father's strength, Fili
closed his eyes and consumed the last of the power from his crumbling memories.
He needed it now, before Dwalin could take it for his own. He consumed the
fledgling trees and flowers and life that had sprung up after the fires. The
dying wind gave its death rattle and he filled his lungs with it. Breathing in
the last little glimmer of spirit from the ghost of a long-dead past.
When he was finished, all that remained was the rain that fell upon his face.
The silence beyond the downpour. But the rain could no longer harm him.
When he opened his eyes again, the world around him was grey. Just grey. No
life here. The trees all dead and the ground naught but sodden ashes that
clumped only with the wet of the rain.
In the far-off distance on a bald and treeless hillside, he could make out a
single figure. A king of dwarves, he knew. Dry despite the rain.
Dwalin.
Fili waited for his mate to come for him. But Dwalin, counter to all that Fili
knew about him, did not approach when Fili called his name. Not just yet. Not
this time.
Fili was confused. He searched the dead world around him for a sign, any sign.
The sky was a bleak and weeping grey. The mountain was shrouded in a cloud of
black, as if preparing itself for the grave. The forest-covered hills were dead
as far as his eyes could see. The ancient trees blackened from fire. The young
trees now dead snags from Fili’s consumption of their vitality. The lifeless
forest floor was still littered with the countless bones of the dead. Those who
had died in war, endless war. The bones of those who had perished so that he
could one day live. His named forefathers and brothers. Some too, he realized
then, his forgotten sisters and ancient mothers.
Warriors all, his noble people. They all had gone to their ends without ever
having known it was he whose life their collective sacrifice had saved.
My people, he lamented, My kinsfolk! I do not deserve the life you have given
me.
As if in answer to his sorrow, a light suddenly burst up from the ground
beneath his feet. He looked down at Kili’s little spring. The crystal clear
water now shone in a brilliant white light of its own.
The gift of life. The gift of freedom. Freely given, by his beloved brother.
Then Fili finally understood the reason for Dwalin’s delay.
His mate’s mind was not here, in Fili’s land of the dead. Dwalin was in the
world of the living. And no one, not even Dwalin, could fight two battles at
once.
***** Chapter 35 *****
Chapter Notes
     Please be advised that this chapter contains highly graphic
     depictions of war-related violence. Consider yourself warned.
      
     ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Kili scrambled for an arrow as he caught the far-off glimpse of his nemesis.
Everything was chaos. When he loosed the shot, it disappeared into the orc
ranks.
Then Dwalin was gone. Opportunity lost in the chaos of battle.
He swung his bow back into place over his shoulder and took up his sword. Sweat
streamed into his eyes and his pulse pounded beneath his ribs. The enemies,
everywhere. Pressing in against his kin.
Kili couldn’t take it anymore. He had no right to be helpless in the center of
the circle. He shoved his way past another defender and into the fray. Mother
bellowed after him and followed close on his heels. As mother and son they cut
down orc after stinking orc. Thrilling, this. He relished the spray of the
blood like life in his veins.
The shriek of one of his victims ended in a gurgle as he lopped its head from
its shoulders. Then he heard it – the familiar voice. The threat.
He spun and gasped as Azog crashed into his king.
“No, Thorin!”
Furiously he cut down the nearest enemy. He forced his way towards Thorin as
quickly as he could. But there were too many. He was tiring.
Then he felt the searing bite just above his left elbow. He wrenched his elbow
back and blood spurted from the weakspot in his armor. He brought his sword up
into the orc’s gut. When it crumpled, Kili swung at its face and split the
creature open from brow to chin. Grey flesh and black blood spewed forth as the
thing died. The blade in Kili's elbow ripped free and took more of his blood
with it.
But now, he hardly even felt it. Too much bloodlust.
He had to get to Thorin. But there were more orcs, so many more.
As he cut down another massive monster, he caught a brief glimpse of the field
around him. Still so full of the enemy. Their allies so far beyond the thick of
death and brutality that was the center of the war field.
He swung wildly at the nearest orc. The creature shrieked as if in laughter and
kicked Kili hard in the chest. He flew back and crashed into the mess of the
reddish mud. He barely managed to get his sword up before the rusted orc blade
came crashing down to cleave his head from his shoulders. The parry saved his
life. He smashed his greaved foot down onto the orc’s instep and the thing
leapt back, howling. Kili jumped up. He slashed his blade into the orc’s thigh.
When the beast clutched its wound Kili buried his sword into its stinking
belly.
Kili went down with the body as the orc collapsed. In the mud, he wrenched his
sword free and rolled away. Feeling suddenly rushed back to his body and he
cried out with the sudden wave of pain. He was gasping for breath. Lungs on
fire. Strength fading. Left elbow full of throbbing fire.
He suddenly saw the utter devastation that carried on around him. The war, the
death. He could no longer see his kin. Just orcs. Just death. In the chaos, the
monsters had not seen him yet. They would soon enough if he didn’t get back up.
But he couldn’t. Somehow, he’d lost the will for it.
He would die on this field, he knew. He would perish before his mate. They
would both be lost.
“Fili! No, my brother!”
As if in response, a deafening shriek echoed out across the field. And then
another, this one closer. He gasped as the shadow passed over him, and he
looked up to the sky.
“Eagles!” Someone – perhaps Mother – cried out. “The eagles!”
The birds swiftly descend upon the field. They picked up the orcs and wargs in
their talons and flew up with them into the sky. The screeching orcs were
hurled back to the earth, plummetting to their deaths. What monsters the eagles
did not throw they shredded with beak and talon, spraying mists of black blood
and body parts into the carnage of the warzone.
“Yes!” Kili cried.
Renewed, he hauled himself to his feet. He grimaced through the pain in his
elbow and charged the enemy fold. He would live. By Mahal, he was going to
live. As he cut down another foe, he caught sight of a flash of white, many
yards away. He suddenly remembered. Kili had to get back to Thorin. He could
not let his king die here, at the hands of the foul defiler.
But then he heard it – the low, dark growl of his brother’s mate. The once
trusted friend who was now his nemesis.
He wheeled towards the sound. Clearly visible some paces away, in the mess of
the dead and dying, was Dwalin.
The barbarian dwarf was covered in blood both black and red. Burn scars on his
face and his ragged armor hanging from his muscles. A bloodied axe in one hand
and a crude orc sword in the other. The cruel and lecherous smile was spreading
over his features.
The once-noble Dwalin was now nothing more than a predator. He was hungry, too.
His eyes were fixed on his prey.
Kili knew immediately what he was facing through his bond with Fili. He could
feel the power that Dwalin had stolen through months of rape and violence. He
suddenly knew his terrible, terrible mistake.
This foe was far beyond him. It was beyond both Kili and Fili together.
A coward, he fled the field, and he didn’t dare look back.
* * * * *
Thorin jumped up and into the attack as Azog crashed into him. He hacked into
the great orc with his battle axe. Azog moved with the blow to weaken its
effectiveness before he smashed that vile spike of a left arm into his enemy.
The impact forced Thorin to the ground. The axe went spinning from his hand. He
rolled out of the way just as the spike came down, sticking into the earth
where his neck had only just been.
Thorin scrambled to his feet. He grabbed the first defense he could get his
hands on – the severed half of a warg’s head. Azog brought his blade down into
the foul shield and rent it apart in a splatter of blood and bones. The shield
was ripped from Thorin’s hand and went arcing across the field.
He ducked the swinging orc sword and sidestepped the glancing blow of the
spiked arm. When he dodged the third blow he dove towards his battle axe,
tucking into a roll until he could grab the weapon. When he closed his fist
around the handle he brought it up just in time. Iron screeched against steel
and sparks flew as the spike collided with the axeblade. Thorin kicked his
greave hard into Azog’s kneecap, shattering the bones in the joint.
The orc’s howl of pain was echoed by a screech from the air.
“Eagles!” Someone screamed.
Thorin barely saw the shadow before the flailing, shrieking body of an orc
splattered on the earth mere feet away. He’d just been in that spot. Had he not
moved, he’d have been crushed. The eagles might kill the allies by dropping the
orcs into the fray.
He had to win this war, and he had to do it now.
He leapt up and barreled into his foe. Azog brought his orc sword down into
Thorin’s flank just as Thorin buried his axe deep in Azog’s belly. Then he felt
the piercing agony as the cruel spike impaled him through the chest. Straight
through the breastplate, puncturing something deep beneath his ribcage on the
righthand side.
He coughed out his scream of pain. The spittle came up pink. With every last
shred of strength he swung his axe at Azog’s neck. The orc jerked his head
back. The notched axe blade only nicked the white flesh. Azog laughed in
sadistic glee. In those icy blue eyes, Thorin barely caught the devastating
truth that he’d lost before Azog threw him away.
He sailed back through the air, too fast and with too much agonizing fluid in
his chest to empty his lungs before he hit. Something shattered in him as he
collided with some fallen creature. His legs went limp. A wave of brutal pain
coursed through him and dissipated somewhere below his navel.
Spine.
If he lived, he’d never walk again. His gurgle of despair was a bubbling mess
of red.
When the white shadow appeared above him, he was utterly defenseless. The cruel
smile spread over the orc’s scarred face, and in it, Thorin saw his death.
He’d seen that face before. He’d seen it on a dwarf. A flashing image of his
nephews – his loyal heirs, his beloved sister-sons – seared across his
darkening vision.
Because of a dwarf, Fili was dying. Because of a dwarf, Kili was lost in a fray
beyond his abilities. And it was not Dwalin who was to blame for any of it.
It was he, Thorin Oakenshield, the king of a dying people.
He suddenly realized that he had used his power for evil wholly without knowing
it. He had abandoned Fili after the rape and dismissed him as helpless, dead
and unsalvagable long before his time. He had sentenced Kili to a life of
misery, as an heir and as a mate who he'd never been made to be. Thorin
Oakenshield had wielded his power over Fili, Kili, and his entire people in
order to claim what he thought heritage had owed him.
If that was not rape, he did not know what was. And because Thorin had raped
his people, he had damned them and himself to a long, slow death through
perpetual war and violence.
He suddenly knew just why he deserved to die.
When the great white orc closed a fist around his neck and hoisted him up
through the air, Thorin gave himself over willingly. He was ready to die and be
buried without honor. For that was the sentence for a rapist.
Thorin opened his eyes and fixed them upon his enemy. Where once he might have
been afraid, now he felt free. His fear had left him. The mindlessly violent
grin of evil spread once more over the orc’s features. But not even the threat
of a painful death could make Thorin despair anymore. As it did no good to
despise the dwarvish soldier who beheaded the honorless, it did no good to
despise Azog the Defiler now for serving as his headsman.
He made to say something, but he coughed up blood when he tried to speak. So he
settled for just thinking the words. They were only for his own ears anyways,
so no one else needed to hear them.
Thank you for making me see, my foe. Thank you, thank you.
As if response, Azog gave a sudden bellow. Laughter again, Thorin knew. But
then the vile spray of black blood splattered across Thorin’s face.
Suddenly, Thorin was falling. He hit the ground hard once again, but this time
he barely felt it. Through the red-grey haze of war, he managed to look up and
then, he saw him. His kinsman, destroying the enemy.
Dain had buried his massive war axe in the small of Azog’s back. The orc swung
his sword wildly, but Dain ducked it and jerked his axe free. With a bellow
Dain lopped the spike from what remained of Azog’s arm. The beast shrieked and
Dain spun, and with three hard and brutal hacks of his axe, he cut through all
but a single glistening muscle in Azogs’ throat. He closed a fist on the wound
and wrenched the head free. Then he picked up the spike, bloodied arm still
attached, and impaled the twitching head upon the rusted iron.
Dain gave a howl of vengeance and hoisted the head high into the air.
“My people!” Dain swung the head above him like a banner as he bellowed out the
rallying cry. “My allies! O, men and elves! Dwarves! For Thorin, kill them!
KILL THEM ALL!!”
Around him, Thorin could hear the renewal of the battle. The shrieking of the
orcs and the victory song of his friends and kin was lost in the clash of
steel.
He listened only for one voice. One young voice, both low and familiar. But he
could not hear his nephew in the dissonance that enveloped him.
When Dain’s face appeared above him, yelling, tears in his eyes, Thorin could
hear the words, but he not make sense of them. All he heard was grey, so much
tumultuous grey. Fading sound. Vaguely he felt his cousin hook an arm beneath
his shoulder. And then he was floating. The war sounds disappearing.
He closed his eyes and let Dain carry him away. When the darkness came, a
vision appeared to him. In the dream, Thorin saw three ornately carved tombs of
stone. One for him, two more for his sister-sons. All three of them buried with
honor in stone, to be reborn in the afterlife. He knew then that because of his
actions, Fili and Kili were bound to die. Not yet, perhaps, but very soon. It
pained him so, for they were both so young. So good and gentle, the both of
them. Such a tragic waste. And it was his fault, all his fault. The only
comfort he had from that thought was that one day, he would see them again. Not
in life, but in death. He would meet them in the beyond.
***** Chapter 36 *****
Chapter Notes
     Please note that this chapter contains highly graphic depictions of
     war violence and rape. Please consider yourself warned.
Fili hastened through the dead trees up the hill towards his mate, unseen.
Dwalin’s attention was on a different battlefield. Now, Fili used that to his
advantage. The closer he got to Dwalin, the thinner the rain became until he
finally reached the edge of the dead forest on the bald hillside where Dwalin
was waiting. Here, the rain had stopped.
Fili slowed to a creep until he was within just a few yards of the edge of the
trees. Here, he hid behind a thick of snags on the forest threshold. From this
vantage point, Fili could see the clouds of blackish red mist undulating around
Dwalin’s body. The scents of blood from orcs and other gentler creatures
mingled with sweat and smoke and iron, and all the smells of battle and death
wafted through the lifeless air.
As close as he was now, Fili could feel every part of his mate’s evil presence.
The battlelust, the thrill of cutting apart the living, whether they were orc
or elf or man. No dwarves though. There were only three dwarves who Dwalin
yearned to destroy.
When the sensations changed, Fili suddenly knew that Dwalin had found Kili on
the field. He felt Dwalin’s lust for Kili as if it were his own, followed
swiftly by the thrilling rush of giving chase.
Kili was fleeing, and Dwalin was chasing him. And Dwalin was a faster runner.
Leave him!
Fili sprang out of the trees and bullrushed his mate, brandishing the
battleaxe. Dwalin’s monstrous, kingly form was suddenly aware of Fili’s
presence, but not fast enough. With the element of surprise, Fili buried the
axe blade in Dwalin’s shoulder and split him to the ribs.
Dwalin suddenly evaporated like cloud of red smoke. Then he reappeared as
instantly as he had vanished, whole again, armed with a massive battlehammer,
and now fully in tune with Fili’s attempts to kill him.
With a bellow of fury, Dwalin swung the hammer at Fili. The weapon glanced off
Fili’s spaulder as he sidestepped the blow. Fili brought his battleaxe arcing
down towards Dwalin’s exposed neck. Dwalin gripped either end of the hammer’s
handle and jerked it up to parry. Steel rang out and Fili’s axe scraped off the
metal bar. He used the momentum from the swing to bring the axe down into
Dwalin’s thigh.
Dwalin growled in pain and slammed the hammer’s handle straight into Fili’s
breastplate. The blow knocked Fili back, out of the reach of the battleaxe.
Dwalin spun the hammer in his hands and brought it arcing down through the air,
straight for his mate’s skull. Fili ducked out of the way and sliced his axe
across Dwalin’s belly. The fabric and belly beneath split open and blood
splattered across Fili’s armor. Dwalin howled and jammed the head of the hammer
into Fili’s face. Pain erupted in Fili's face as bones broke. The blow sent him
staggering backwards. Through the mist of blood and the dazing pain, Fili could
just barely see the flesh in Dwalin’s belly close up around the wound in a
hissing mess of crimson smoke. Then Dwalin swung the hammer into Fili’s legs
and sent him crashing to the earth.
As Fili hit the ground the earth began to tremble. A rumble came up from the
stone as a fissure opened up beneath him. He barely rolled out of the way as
the earth burst open. The crumbling stone disintegrated into dust that drifted
away into the bottomless chasm of the void. He took hold of his mate’s leg. He
would drag Dwalin into the nothing if all else failed.
When Fili’s arms closed around Dwalin’s leg, the monstrous dwarf brought the
hammer down straight into his prone mate. Fili bellowed as the blow rent his
father’s armor and shattered the ribs in his back. Then Dwalin closed a fist in
Fili’s braids and hauled him screaming to his feet just before slamming him
down onto the stone. Before Fili could escape, Dwalin threw himself down upon
his mate and pinned him in place with his body.
The wave of sudden terror rushed through Fili as he realized what was to come.
He had no strength for it now. The world was crumbling around him, the rockface
of the hillside cracking open with Dwalin’s surging malevolence.
If Dwalin took him now, Fili would die.
“Kili!”
He screamed out for his brother as loudly as his searing lungs would let him.
His voice was as it had once been, resonant when he needed it to be. Now, the
high tenor echoed through the dead world around him for miles in the smoky
atmosphere. No waterfall now to consume the sound. But when the sound his voice
finally died when he’d emptied his lungs, there was nothing. No response or
sound of wind. Nothing beyond the coursing of his blood in his ears and
Dwalin’s heavy breathing.
Dwalin laughed triumphantly as he went to work on Fili’s armor. Fili struggled
for his life but Dwalin was too strong, far stronger now than he had ever been
before. Dwalin used the stored strength he had stolen to unbuckle Fili’s armor
with his mind. As the layers of protective metal loosened from Fili’s body and
dissolved away like shimmering dust into the air, Fili scrambled for something,
anything, to use as a weapon. But there was nothing.
Nothing could stop this.
And then, over the sound of Dwalin’s sinister laugh, Fili heard the beating of
the hooves on stone followed by the wail of the stallion.
* * * * *
Kili ran as hard and as fast as he could away from the battlefield. He leapt
over the dead and dying, dodging the few combatants who still warred in the
thinning fray, fleeing for his life.
The field of the dead and dying soon gave way to the open, burnt grasslands
just south of the ruin of Dale. The rising hills cradled the river and he
rushed for the scorched forest upon the slopes. Here, where the sounds of
battle had faded, he could hear his enemy behind him, bellowing like an enraged
beast determined to catch his prey.
A stitch dug into his side and his body was aching where he’d been injured, but
the real hindrance was the armor. Dwarves weren’t fast runners to start with,
but the armor weighed him down. He began to unbuckle pieces of it as he ran and
threw them away as he went. He tossed his spaulders away into the dead
underbrush and his gauntlets into the trees. Even his bow and quiver he shed,
keeping only the sword in his sweat-soaked right hand. Once he’d stripped
himself down to little more than the breastplate, the tuille around his hips,
and the greaves that guarded his legs, he was a little faster. But still, not
fast enough. Dwalin was closing in.
Then he felt it. Fili’s desperate cry within his heart. Instantly he could feel
the pull within his mind, the urge to join the other combatants in Fili’s world
of thought. He resisted. That was not his war. He knew nothing of how to win a
battle of minds, but still, Fili needed him now. Fili would die without him.
He grimaced and sucked power from Fili’s presence within him. Then as he dodged
the burnt trees and stony ruins in the forest, he used his brother’s sharp mind
to split his own thoughts down the middle. The half that was bonded to Fili, he
partitioned off from the real world and the urge to survive.
He suddenly felt like two people in a single body. A part of him was in the
real forest, running and fleeing Dwalin the barbarian. But ahead of him he
could see his target through as well as between the translucent, ghostly trees.
Everything was dead here in the mind world but for the two shapes he now saw in
the distance. One struggling beneath the other. The grey stone upon which they
fought crumbled apart around them.
As he sprinted towards them he suddenly saw them for they were. Dwalin and Fili
were a writhing mess of liquid black lead and molten gold. They coiled together
in a foul metallurgy that would destroy them both. Kili screamed out as he
summoned up his own mental strength and then somehow, he felt like his body had
become a rushing stream of ice water.
He slammed into the writhing metals and the burst of steam shot painfully
through his being as he quenched the ongoing battle. The sound of cooling metal
squealed through the woods. He felt his dwarvish mind body rematerialize and he
closed his hands on the lumps of cooled lead. The black metal swiftly melted in
his fingers. He flung it away from the gold as quickly as he could before it
could burn him.
But then he felt the sudden jerk of a hand in his hair. Instantly he was pulled
screaming back into the real world. Dwalin slammed Kili to the ground, onto his
back. Kili barely had time to roll out of the way before Dwalin brought a
battlehammer down onto the spot where he had just been.
As he rolled out of the way, Kili caught sight of the engravings on the
hammerhead. Mother’s hammer. Dwalin had taken her down in his quest to get to
Kili.
“NO!”
Rage flooded into his veins and he jammed his sword deep up into the inside of
Dwalin’s left thigh. Dwalin howled and jerked his leg back, but blood began to
spurt rhythmically, the dangerous wound a ghastly and beautiful fountain.
Dwalin still had the strength to raise the hammer high. Kili thrust his blade
up to parry, but the downward force of the hammer shattered the steel blade. A
fragment of the broken sword sliced its way across Kili’s cheek clean down to
the bone. When the hammer finally crunched into Kili’s left shoulder, the blow
half crushed the joint with sickening squelch.
Through his wrath, Kili barely felt it, but the second blow hit him hard. This
one was to his thigh. The full force of the hammer shattered his left femur
even through the armor. His cry of agony caught in his throat and his vision
went black.
When he came to, Dwalin was already on him. The massive dwarf grabbed the
fragment of Kili’s sword and tossed it away. Then Dwalin was clawing at the
armor, desperate even as he bled out to get to the flesh beneath.
* * * * *
Dwalin leapt off Fili’s now naked body just as the stallion reached them. Kili
reared and drove his hooves into Dwalin’s chest, sending him staggering back
away from his elder brother.
Kili screamed in fury as he put himself between Fili and Dwalin. The black
stallion spun and landed a second hard kick with his hind legs in the center of
Dwalin’s chest. The big dwarf went flying through the air, hammer swinging
wildly at nothing. Then Dwalin smashed hard to the stone and skidded across the
hilltop towards one of the widening crevasses, but he scrambled out of the way.
Fili leapt to his feet. He searched for a brief moment until he saw it – the
battleaxe. He rushed for it as quickly as he could. But then a sudden tremble
of the earth split open the rock beneath the axe. Fili watched in horror as the
axe disappeared into the void.
A horse’s shriek of agony cut through the air. Fili spun just in time to see
Dwalin smash the battlehammer into Kili’s shoulder. The beautiful stallion went
crashing to the earth. The hind leg snapped at the femur beneath the Kili’s
weight.
As Kili hit the earth, his stallion body was consumed in a flash of white
light. Suddenly Kili was a dwarf again. He screamed as his armor began to
crumble away from his broken, defenseless frame.
Fili took off sprinting towards his brother. Dwalin placed one defensive foot
on either side of his writhing, screaming prize, but before he could raise the
battlehammer, Fili barreled into him and brought Dwalin smashing to the stone.
As they hit the ground they both rolled until Fili came out on top. Fili
slammed his fists into Dwalin’s face and crushed the bones with each blow of
his naked hands. But the wounds instantly healed, one right after the other.
You leave him, he’s mine!
Fili was growing desperate. He could feel his body withering back to its weak,
thin state. Each blow was less powerful, less damaging than the last. As his
voice grew hoarse again as it remembered its former strangulation, he suddenly
felt the tug at his throat and icily, he remembered Dwalin’s chain.
Dwalin closed a fist around the hanging mithril collar. Then Dwalin brought his
leg up and planted it on Fili’s chest. He grabbed Fili’s shoulder and threw him
as he kicked him back through the air. The chain uncoiled as Fili spun. He
jerked to a stop when he reached the end of the chain, and with a strangled
cry, Fili slammed back to the earth.
The impact shattered the top few inches of stone into dust. Fili looked up just
in time to see Dwalin looming once again over a helplessly thrashing Kili.
There was nothing he could do but watch with horror as Dwalin snapped the
collar closed around Kili’s bloodsoaked throat.
* * * * *
Kili struggled as hard as he could as Dwalin tore at his armor. The pain was
unbearable. It was nearly impossible to move his left side. But still, he
tried. As Dwalin pinned him down in the dirt, Kili groped with his good hand
for something, anything, to defend himself with. His fingers closed on dead
leaves and ash and then finally something hard. He brought the charred branch
up and smacked it into Dwalin’s skull.
Dwalin moved with the blow, diminishing its effectiveness. His fist closed on
the branch and he jerked it out of Kili’ hand before he smashed it into Kili’s
face. Then he threw the wood away and slammed his knuckle dusters into Kili’s
shattered shoulder.
The edges of Kili’s vision went red. He couldn’t think. His terror was roaring
in his ears and he poured everything into reigning in the pain.
By the time his senses returned to him Dwalin had gotten through the
breastplate. He heaved it from Kili’s bloodied, heaving chest and went to work
on the rigid tuille. As he pulled the armor from Kili’s struggling body, he
flipped his prey over and held him down, face first into the dirt.
Kili fought as hard as he could, shrieking incoherently. Dwalin pressed all his
weight into Kili to pin him in place. Kili’s broken femur was in agony and his
whole left arm was pulsing. But even through that, he could feel the scrambling
hands on his gambeson, his trousers. Fingers tearing at the garments.
When the bite of cold air stung on his bare flesh, he made one last desperate
attempt to get free. But Dwalin held him fast. Kili’s strength was failing.
He knew what was coming. He felt it through the bond. That was no solace when
the blinding pain hit him as Dwalin forced himself up inside.
* * * * *
Kili, NO!
Fili could do nothing but watch as the last vestiges of his chained brother’s
armor dissolved into dust around him. Once Kili was naked, Dwalin flipped him
over and pinned him, face-down and kicking, in the ashes. Then Dwalin swiftly
tore open his trousers and buried himself in Kili’s body.
Kili thrashed hard as Dwalin thrusted into him. But it was no use. Dwalin had
him now.
Through the bond, Kili’s heart was screaming.
Fili dragged himself to his knees. He forced himself to crawl through the
thickening ash. The lifeless forest floor. The dead trees disintegrated around
him. The branches high above crumbled into dust and began their slow descent in
the windless air. Fili’s hands and knees seemed to bury themselves deeper in
the ashes with every move he made.
Fili could sense Dwalin’s mounting pleasure coupled with Kili’s blinding pain,
both uncoiling within his own body as if they were his own. There was a
sickness to it, a pleasure to the raping. He gritted his teeth and claimed that
coursing power, evil as it was. Through both of his bonds, he stole all the
strength that he could from the copulating pair, and he simultaneously consumed
every last shred of his forest and forced himself to his feet. The horizon
crumbled in on all sides around him as he began to run. Without thinking, he
closed his fist on the chain that hung from his collar and barreled into
Dwalin. Before he even knew what he was doing, he had the chain wrapped around
Dwalin’s throat.
Then he was falling into the earth as it dematerialized around him.
His body went limp. Deadweight that sank like a stone through the ashes and
disappeared into the black. At the end of his leash, he jerked to a stop. Held
in place only by the taut wrap of the chain around Dwalin’s neck.
Dwalin’s eyes went wide as the chain cut into his flesh. He stumbled back and
out of Kili as the sensation pushed him through his climax. His consummating
seed was wasted in a sticky mess that disappeared into the void.
Then Dwalin was thrashing. His thick fingers shredded at his darkening skin
above the chain. He couldn’t scream. Eyes bloodshot and full of terror.
Dwalin’s heart raced in Fili’s chest as if it were his own. The strangulation
crushed his windpipe and the stars began to wink in his vision. Fili could hear
his own screaming voice echoing through the fading air. But he couldn’t make a
sound.
By killing Dwalin, he was strangling himself. But that didn’t matter. All that
mattered was Kili. And if it took Fili’s death to keep the bond from being
forged, he would gladly die.
Now he would. Fili’s vision grew dimmer. And then his muscles were failing.
As Dwalin collapsed into the void, the black closed in around Fili, ready to
take him home.
* * * * *
Without warning, Dwalin abruptly slipped out of Kili. Hot stickiness spurt from
their bodies onto Kili’s thighs as the weight of oppression fell off him.
Immediately his instincts rushed back. He flipped himself over and slammed his
good arm in the ashes until he found it. The hilt of the sword. He grasped it
for dear life. Then in a single thrust he sunk the shattered blade deep into
Dwalin’s belly.
Dwalin bellowed in shock as Kili jerked the sword through his gut. Shards of
shattered steel broke off between the lamellar plates. The remants of the blade
split open the leather armor and fabric and flesh beneath it. Cut free,
Dwalin’s innards spilled out in a stinking mess onto Kili’s broken body.
Even in dying, Dwalin still managed to fight. He growled in desperation and
thrust his fist deep into the gaping wound in Kili’s shoulder.
Pain exploded in Kili’s shoulder just before his arm went dead. But he was
close, so close.
“Die, you bastard!”
Kili wrenched the blade free. With a swift upward jab he buried it like a
dagger in Dwalin’s throat.
The lifeblood spluttered out of Dwalin’s gaping neck as his death cry was lost
in a pitiful gurgle. The red drenched Kili’s face and spilled into his open
mouth. The metallic taste of victory was sweet upon his tongue.
Then Dwalin’s body gave way. He collapsed onto Kili’s chest and ground him into
the ashes.
The pain consumed Kili again. But this time, he couldn’t fight it. Desperate as
he was to stay here, awake, he couldn’t. The blood-red unconsciousness flooded
in from the corners of his vision.
The lights flickered. Then they went out.
* * * * *
Fili felt the chain go slack as Dwalin died.
A floodgate ripped open inside him and he was suddenly filled with the energy
of life.
He gasped as the sweet breath of freedom filled his lungs. He was suddenly on
hard ground again. He jerked his chain free from Dwalin’s ash-covered corpse
and scrambled away from the dead.
The ashes in the void were swept away on a warm wind that flew up suddenly from
the south. The twisting growth of trees echoed around him. An infinite number
of saplings pushed their way up through the death and decay as far as the eye
could see. Life chased away the nothingness as his forest came back to him.
Years seemed to pass like seconds. The trees grew up large and their leaf-
covered branches filled in the canopy beneath the grey and sunless sky. The
green of the forest was the color of spring. Above him, the branches writhed
with renewed life. Every leaf danced in the warm air and all things were alive
and beautiful.
He breathed in as all pain left his body. He felt the blood as it rushed into
his muscles. He was regrowing, coming back strong. He looked down at himself as
his frame thickened with rugged strength beneath his hanging chain. The bodily
resilience filled in the spaces between his bones, and the rich color of life
came back and chased the jaundice from his flesh. Beneath the cold metal
against his chest, he could feel his heart beating strong.
The liberation. It was everywhere, around and through him.
He was free.
Filled with life, Fili climbed to his feet and spread out his arms. He breathed
in the clean air of the wild. He savored the beautiful scent of trees and of
earth and of sweet, clean dew on the grasses that now kissed his bare feet.
Everything went quiet as the forest peaked into glorious maturity. The trees
were thick and ancient. The grass was lush and green and pliant under Fili’s
bare feet. The vines that had once seemed so menacing now coiled harmlessly
around themselves. Then tiny golden blossoms opened up on every vine, each
flower glistening as if covered in little crystals that caught the light to
lend rich beauty to his world.
The forest was Fili. It was his heart and his soul. It was complete now.
Completely new.
Its self-sustaining beauty was now dependent only upon the rich soil left by
the decay of his former self. The stone prince he had once been was now just a
part of Fili’s living spirit, and now, from the ashes, he was reborn.
A wild thing, a free thing.
Not a prince, nor a fighter, and not even a dwarf anymore. He was something
else entirely, something trancendant. Something wholly undiscovered.
Fili was a mystery unto himself now, and though he had never been a creature of
the forest, the thick and beautiful silence of the woods was pregnant with hope
and promise and a future. He was no longer afraid.
For a brief moment, he basked in the mystery of the unknown, of the wonder that
awaited him as he reclaimed the life that was his.
Then a single gentle whistle rang out from between the trees. Fili heard the
distant song of the bird, the long, low looo followed by an ascending ra-loo.
He turned as he heard the sound, looking for the singer. As if noticing him, a
second bird returned the call of its mate.
The bird was a little yellow thing. Black-eyed and black-capped, the
irredescent black tips of its wing feathers.
He’d never seen this type of bird before, but it was truly a beautiful
creature.
Then suddenly the forest came alive with song. In that moment, Fili knew the
music for what it was.
Kili’s song.
It was the music that had dragged him out of the darkness of the void in
Laketown. The music had sustained him as Kili had brought him back from the
brink of death. Now, as then, it filled his being. Now, as then, he needed it.
The music was life.
He closed his eyes and lifted his face to the heavens, savoring the free music
of his singing spirit. A smile spread over his features and and unrestrained
laugh burbled up from deep within his belly and tumbled out of him, echoing
through the trees in harmony with the song.
But then he felt it.
The splatter of the single raindrop as it landed cold upon his cheek.
He gasped and felt the fear come back to him as the rain began to fall from the
grey and clouded sky. He knew what followed the rain. He cried out in terror
and defeat as he collapsed to the forest floor and buried his head in his
hands.
But nothing happened. The storm never came.
He raised his head again and looked around. The rain still fell, but it was
gentle, barely more than a mist that nourished the living trees.
Eventually the rain soaked his skin and he grew cold. He started to feel
miserable again.
Fili looked up again at the grey sky, willing the clouds away. They did not
move. They slowly grew darker as they shadowed the sky, releasing their endless
rain as the sun began to set.
Sunset.
Kili!
Fili dropped to his knees as he remembered his brother’s spirit. Beside him
amidst the thick of the undergrowth were two barrows that had formed from the
coiled, yellow-flowered vines. From one, a chain of mithril and gold extended
out from beneath the leaves. He grabbed hold of the vines around the chain and
ripped into the green life. The vines disintegrated into dust in his hands as
he dug through them to get to his mate. It was too slow. His hands just weren’t
enough. He let out a desperate cry and summoned his strength and willed the
vines to die. As they withered and turned to mush, he buried his hands in the
decay until he finally found the clammy skin encased in the metal collar.
Fili scooped away the mulch and pulled Kili’s bloodied and broken spirit out of
the barrow.
No, Kili… Brother, please!
He pressed his ear to his brother’s chest. The heartbeat was there, but it was
faint.
He began to weep as he cradled his mate in his arms. Around him, the birds grew
louder, crying out in their despair. As the sounds of the forest grew deafening
in the air, Fili poured his own vitality into Kili through the bond between
their souls.
The strength faded from his body once again. He grew thin and his scars came
back, and his muscles wasted back down to little more than the faint remnants
of a former strength stretched out above the jutting bones.
Then, Kili’s wounds began to heal. The shattered bones in his shoulder and
pelvis began to reform themselves. Then the muscles and tendons and veins grew
back within the wounds, and finally the skin started to close until the gashes
sealed scarless, leaving Kili’s spirit whole. As the sanguine warmth of life
returned to color Kili’s ashen skin, he began to glow, and though he remained
asleep and blood-soaked, he was alive.
His spirit was healed. Made whole through Fili’s gift.
Tears streaked from Fili’s eyes as he brushed the blood-matted hair out of
Kili’s face. He then pressed a kiss to his brother’s warm lips.
Kili, I need you. Please wake.
But Kili didn’t stir. Fili cried out and turned to face the still grey, still
raining sky. Daylight was beginning to fade. The blue-grey clouds beyond the
canopy were growing darker.
In the spirit world, Kili had been made whole, but in the land of the living,
his body was still dying.
No!
Trapped here as he was, in the forest of their shared soul, Fili couldn’t save
his brother’s life.
His body was still asleep in Erebor. He could do nothing for Kili now.
Kili! Fili kissed his brother’s ear and whispered his final plea. I can’t go on
alone. Not without you. Please, don’t die in this place. Not here, my love. Not
yet.
***** Chapter 37 *****
The first sensation that returned to Thorin through the shroud of quiet was a
whisper. Soft and low, followed by another higher murmur. Then the physical
sensation. It only existed above his navel, and though it hurt, the pain did
not seem to bother him. He could feel the rhythmic pulse of his heartbeat.
Slowing as he bled out. There was too little blood to sustain him.
When he opened his eyes and his hazy surroundings coalesced into soft clarity,
he knew that when he drifted away from this world once more, he would not wake
again.
Tiredly, he fixed his eyes upon the ceiling. The carved stone of Erebor’s
infirmary was gently illuminated by the slow flicker of the orange firelight.
He moved his hands and felt the soft sheets beneath his fingers.
Such finery here, even in the place where fallen warriors went to die. Somehow,
that richness no longer really mattered.
“Thorin.”
The voice came from his left.
He turned his head and there he saw the speaker. There at his bedside was the
burglar of his company. Bilbo’s large tears coursed unchecked down his young
and beardless face. Behind him stood Balin, drained and ancient. Dain Ironfoot
was there too, looking troubled.
There was no one else.
“My kin…” When Thorin spoke his words they were little more than a whisper. It
took such energy to speak, but he had to know. “My sister, her sons. Do they
yet live?”
Balin bowed his snowy head.
“Dis was injured, but she’ll live,” Dain murmured. He dropped his eyes to the
floor and gave a remorseful hum. “We could not find Kili on the field. We are
still searching, but” – his voice cracked a little. “Many of the dead are…
unidentifiable. I am sorry, my king.”
Thorin sighed. His eyes fell closed. Then he whispered, “And Fili? Does he yet
live?”
Their silence confirmed the worst.
“Oin is with him,” Balin murmured. “But he is not long for this world.”
A tear slid out of the corner of Thorin’s eye and traced its way over his
temple and disappeared into his hair. It would be his last. Shed for the end of
the future at his own hands.
“Forgive me,” he whispered.
At his words, he felt the hand upon his cold fingers. The touch was soft and
gentle. Too little a hand to belong to one of his kind.
He opened his eyes again and fixed them upon the hobbit. Bilbo still wept
openly, expressing the grief of all of them, the despair at the act of living.
How deeply Thorin had wronged him, too. How very much he had wronged so many
whom he could never know or ask for forgiveness. The disappeared, the dead, and
the dying with whom Thorin could never be reconciled in the few minutes left in
his life.
“Bilbo…” he murmured.
“I’m here,” Bilbo said. He interlaced his fingers with Thorin’s, anchoring him
here for just a little while longer.
Thorin glanced beyond Bilbo to his kin. “Leave us.”
Balin and Dain both drew back. Before he left, Balin placed his palm upon
Thorin’s cheek and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Forgiving Thorin for the
damnation of Dwalin. Forgiving him for his failures.
Then they were gone.
Thorin turned to Bilbo. His grip on the hobbit’s hand faltered and he let go of
his friend’s fingers. Bilbo held on to him, but Thorin knew he could not stay
for long.
“There is more in you of good than you know,” he said, “child of the kindly
West. Some courage and some wisdom, blended in measure.”
Then Thorin closed his eyes. In the darkness, he saw the faces of his people.
The countless dead, those who still lived, and those who had yet to be born
until the end of their kind.
Among the waiting were Thorin’s brother and his sister, both smiling. Their
lost father, Thrain. Their grandfather Thror, the last King under the Mountain.
And at the front were his nephews, as they once had been. Young and vibrant and
beautiful, the both of them. Unscarred and strong of body, whole and hale.
They, the final branches of their lineage and the end of the Line of Durin, had
taken their place beside their ancestors, awaiting Thorin’s homecoming.
Thorin was ready to join them.
As he thought it, one face among the countless became clearer than them all.
Fili smiled at Thorin, patient. Knowing they would be together again. In those
blue eyes and that gentle countenance, Thorin could finally see what truly made
a dwarf.
A dwarf had been made of stone, and to grey stone, his body returned. But the
souls of all their kind but the few who did not deserve the gift of life would
pass away into the eternal, living forever amongst their people. It did not
matter if a dwarf was buried in stone, burned upon the pyre, or lost on the
field of war. It did not matter if he had been enslaved and killed at the hands
of a far more malicious being. Nor did it matter if he had died before fighting
for honor, gold, or title. All that mattered was goodness. All that mattered
was love.
Fili, unto his end, had been goodness and love unbounded. For that and that
alone, he would pass freely into the halls to join his ancestors when his
torment was finally through. And there, Thorin would be waiting.
Thorin smiled a little at the thought.
He opened his eyes one last time. He gave his friend one final message.
“If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a
merrier world. But sad or merry, I must leave it now. Farewell.”
***** Chapter 38 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Fili…
At the sound of his name, he startled into wakefulness.
After saving his brother’s soul, Fili had taken up a seat with his back to a
tree. Kili was still in his arms. He had waited there, hoping for Kili to
awaken, hoping that the sun would stay warm and alive behind the clouds. But
neither of those good things had happened. Slowly, over the course of hours,
the sky had faded to a grey dusk as the endless night began to settle in over
his forest.
Now, as he looked away into the vast and endless swath of trees, he saw no one.
But he still heard the voice.
Fili!
Mother?
No, Fili. The voice sounded timeless, sad. Where are you?
I don’t know. I’m in the woods.
He sighed morosely and dropped his head back against the tree. As he did so,
his chain clinked gently, reminding him of its permanence. The sound made him
look down at the other end of it, where the mithril collar forever bound his
brother to his side.
Dwalin was dead, but the remnants of his bondage still lingered. And now, Fili
knew, his fate was bound to the fate of his brother. If Kili died, so too would
Fili.
Perhaps that wasn’t so bad after all. They would be together forever, unto the
end of all things.
Fili!
Now, as he heard the voice on the wind, a sound from the world of the living,
he did not want to heed it. He had no wish to return to life if he could not
take Kili with him.
Fili, The voice cried, drawing nearer. Where are you?
Leave me alone, he told the voice. I would stay here with Kili if he is to die.
Let me stay with him.
No, Fili! You don’t understand! The voice sounded so old, so mournful. Please,
help me find you!
Fili furrowed his brow. Now that the voice was nearer, he recognized it. He sat
up straight, suddenly alert.
Legolas? Fili scrambled out from beneath Kili’s sleeping form and he stood,
searching frantically and squinting in the misty twilight. How did you get
here?
Tell me how to find you!
Fili scanned the forest for a landmark, but everything looked much the same in
the growing gloom. Then as he looked into a tree, he caught sight of one of his
songbirds. The bird cocked its head at him. Then it let out its three-note
song.
Follow the birds!
As if he had commanded it, the bird began to sing. Around him the forest awoke
once more with Kili’s song. He knelt beside his brother again and pulled Kili’s
spirit to him. Then he waited for help.
Fili!
The voice was close. He looked up.
There in the distance, shrouded in mist, was Legolas. His hair was disheveled
and his slender, armored frame was splattered in the black and red blood of the
many dead. As soon as he saw Fili, Legolas sprinted towards him, feet barely
gracing the top layers of the heavy underbrush.
How are you here?
There’s no time to explain. Legolas dropped to his knees as he reached the
brothers and gently took Kili from Fili’s grasp. I must get Kili to safety.
I don’t understand. Did you find his body?
Yes.
How?
I cannot explain now! Legolas repeated as he tucked one of his long arms
beneath Kili’s neck and the other beneath his knees. Then he draped Kili’s
right arm over his shoulder and stabilized Kili’s left limbs in a strong but
gentle grasp. If Kili stays here, both of you will die.
I know, Fili whispered.
An unreadable expression passed over Legolas’s features. His eyes darted from
the gold around Fili’s throat to the mithril around Kili’s.
You deserve to live, my friend.
Fili did not know how to respond to that. Instead of speaking, he stood and
looked around the darkening forest. Though it was his forest, he’d always been
bad in the woods. Now, one tree looked the same as another, and he knew that he
was lost. He turned back to Legolas.
Do you know the way?
Yes.
Then Legolas was moving. Fili started after him as quickly as needed. The chain
jingled noisily as Fili hastened where Legolas was taking Kili’s body-bound
spirit.
Fili didn’t pay attention to where they were going. He was too caught up in
watching the sun as its light dwindled in the dusky grey above the canopy.
Eventually, the shade of air began to lighten, but only because the trees were
thinning. The mist and the fog of war still lingered heavy in the atmosphere.
He squinted ahead and caught the sight of light through the trees. It was still
grey, but at least there was finally an end to the dark of the woods.
When they reached the clearing, Fili gasped at the desolation that lay before
them.
The ashen earth was littered with the charred skeletons of men, of elves, and
of dwarves. Among their bodies lay the scattered bones of orcs and wargs.
Looming tall in the east was Erebor, its head shrouded in a veil of grey smoke
and fog and the stench of death and decay.
Legolas did not stop. He picked up speed and Fili had to run to keep up with
him. His knee gave him no trouble as he jogged beside his long-legged friend,
but every time he glanced up at the sky, the sun seemed a little dimmer than
before.
There! Legolas cried suddenly.
In the distance, Fili could make out a line of green-grey tents, and as they
drew near, he saw the soldiers, all too tall and too slender to be anyone but
elves. When they reached the edge of the camp, Legolas took no notice of the
elves who stepped out of his way, nor did the many soldiers take heed of the
naked and chained dwarf who ran breathlessly at their prince’s side.
It was as if Fili didn’t even exist.
He wasn’t really there at all.
But they saw Kili. At the sight of Kili’s unconscious body, the brief flash of
pained empathy flickered through many a dark blue eye. Some turned away and
others bowed their heads. A few said soft words in Sindarin whose meaning Fili
could guess.
They think he’s dying, Fili asked worriedly, don’t they?
Legolas didn’t answer. Instead he cried out something in Sindarin and then Fili
heard the quick footsteps from another end of the camp. He cried out again,
louder this time.
Ada!
They rounded a tent and suddenly they were face to face with the elvish king.
Thranduil gave a soft gasp as he laid eyes upon the unconscious dwarf in his
son’s arms. He reached for Kili, but did not touch him, and he looked at
Legolas in alarm.
Ada! Legolas said before his father could speak. Ho neth gwanur ion Thorin!
The elvish king’s eyes widened and he exhaled in quiet horror at the sight of
Kili’s injuries. When he spoke again, he hissed with quiet hatred, Baug îr
harna ernil sen? Orchoth?
Ú orchoth. Legolas shook his head. Then he said, Hadhod.
Ai! Thranduil recoiled as if scalded by his son’s words. The hint of despair
and repulsion was evident even in the king's detached expression.
Orgol hadhod gwann, sen – Kili – ho gwanath. Legolas’s voice was a desperate
whisper. Edhellen belain ho nestad?
Thranduil looked at his son skeptically. Then he glanced back down at Kili.
Im hartha, the king whispered. Then he swiftly turned on his heel and beckoned
his son. Ho tôg hortha!
Legolas and Fili swiftly followed Thranduil where he led them. The king came to
a massive tent which aside from its size looked much like any other in the
encampment. As he approached, an elvish guard pulled back the curtain and
dropped it closed after Thranduil and Legolas had entered before Fili could
follow them.
For a brief moment, Fili saw the chain disappearing into the fabric of the
tent. When the chain went taut and he felt the pull, he followed it straight
through the barrier and then he was suddenly there, inside the tent with the
others.
Here in the healing tent there were several injured elves, a few men, and even
another dwarf whom Fili did not recognize, all laid out upon cots in various
states of serious injury. Elvish healers bustled about mostly in silence as
they hastily tended to the groaning, miserable wounded. Thranduil called out in
Sindarin and two elvish healers hastened to him once they had ensured that
their current patients could be left alone.
The healers – one a woman, another male – guided Legolas to an empty cot, where
the prince set Kili down and stepped away.
Fili watched worriedly as the two healers worked their hands over Kili’s body.
As if pulling off invisible clothing and armor from his injured frame. One
exchanged a dark glance with the other and shook her head.
No!
Fili rushed, unnoticed, through the body of one of the healers towards his
brother. He closed his hand around Kili’s and held on to his brother’s cool
fingers. Around Fili and through his shade, the elves diligently did what they
could for Kili's grievous wounds.
Fili watched them carefully, but he could not see precisely what they were
doing. The shattered shoulder and the half-crushed thigh all looked whole in
the spirit world, and when the healers went to work on repairing what they
could, their fingers seemed to disappear into Kili’s skin as if they were
dipping their digits into a pool of skin-colored liquid. When they pulled their
fingers out of the wounds, the damage did not manifest on Kili’s spirit, but
the thin hands were nonetheless bloodied.
Ranc amarth, the female healer whispered, her fingers working deftly in Kili’s
shoulder wound.
The other healer glanced up at her from where he was tending to the injuries on
Kili’s lower half. He nodded briefly. Then he turned his head and called to no
one in particular, Tôg athelas!
A third elf swiftly appeared with a tray containing herbs, many bowls of
different types of ointments and salves, and other healing supplies. The male
healer picked up a small sprig of some green weed that Fili didn’t recognize.
Then he selected three of the bowls and set them aside while the second healer
picked up a needle, suturing thread, and small scissors from the tray. She
began to stitch inside the wound on Kili’s shoulder as her counterpart bit into
the plant and chewed. He took the crushed from his mouth and pressed them into
the wounds between Kili’s legs. Then he handed one of the salves to his partner
and traded her for the needle and thread. He went to work stitching up the many
injuries on Kili’s lower half.
Fili turned away. He could not bear to watch that. He did not need to see it to
know exactly how much damage Dwalin had inflicted upon Kili. Though he could
not physically feel it through their young bond, Fili knew from his own
experience that Kili would never fully recover from those injuries.
How very like the two of them, to be similar in everything.
Fili gave a low moan of sorrow and lowered his head down until it rested upon
the center of Kili’s chest. There he wept, unheard and unnoticed from his place
in the spirit world. The healers diligently continued their work in the land of
the living. He wished that there was something he could do, but even if he had
been there beside his brother’s broken body, there was nothing to do now but
hope. Nothing to do but trust that the elves could save him.
They are doing everything they can for him, Legolas whispered behind Fili.
Fili lifted his head and turned. He had nearly forgotten about the elvish
prince. Legolas was watching the healers work, a look of exhaustion just
hinting at the bottom lids of his otherwise unreadable eyes.
If Kili survives, he will lose the use of that arm, said legolas. His mouth did
not move as he spoke.
And his leg? Fili thought he already knew the answer to that question.
It may heal in time, perhaps. Legolas fixed his eyes upon Fili. Then he said
tiredly, Please forgive me, but now that your brother is safe, I cannot stay in
his mind any longer.
What will happen if you leave? When Legolas sighed sadly, shaking his head,
Fili realized that his existence in the elvish tent was mediated only by
Legolas’s presence in Kili’s mind. Fili pleaded with him then, Please, don’t
leave.
I cannot stay, said Legolas. It takes energy to be in his mind like this, and I
am weary. I will try to bring you back to him once I am more rested, but for
now, please trust me. We will do everything we can to save him. This, I swear
to you.
Before Fili could protest, the world of the living began to dissolve into a
cool haze of green and grey and white. He turned back to Kili as his brother
began to dematerialize.
Oh, Kili!
Before the world could disappear in its entirety around Fili, he pressed a kiss
to Kili’s slightly open mouth, desperately hoping it was not for the last time.
Beneath his lips, he could feel the soft and gentle breath of his brother’s
spirit, whole and well but still bound to the broken body. But even as he
kissed his brother his brief farewell, the feeling of Kili’s presence
diminished, then faded entirely.
As Legolas finished extracting himself from Kili’s mind and from the brothers’
shared soul, the world of the living faded into the soft and gentle void of
Fili’s thoughtless, emotionless existence.
Yet again, a void. But different. This was more dream-like than anything. The
soft and gentle waking from a peaceful slumber.
Soon he could hear the sound of his breathing, even if he could not yet feel
his body. Then more sounds. The movement of someone with a physical body in a
physical space. The low muttering of someone who did not yet know that he was
being heard.
Fili sighed and opened his eyes. His surroundings came into soft focus above
him. It took him a moment to remember where he was.
Above him was the sweeping ceiling of the bedroom that he had shared with Kili
upon leaving the infirmary. He blinked slowly, letting realness return to his
tired, aching body and his exhausted mind.
Then he heard it. The clatter of metal on the floor and the sudden feel of
motion at the bedside.
A face appeared above him. Oin, the half-deaf healer. Mouth open in a shocked,
toothy gape.
“Yer alive!” Oin cried. He gave a boisterous laugh and tears welled up in his
eyes. “Oh! This is, this is… Ah!”
“Yes, Oin,” Fili murmured. “I’m alive, indeed.”
He laid a hand upon Oin’s forearm. The simple feel of a trusted physical
presence there beside him was enough to help him shed the last vestiges of
sleep. He made to push himself up in the bed, and Oin gave a soft laugh and
gently helped him up to sit with his back against the pillows.
Once upright, Fili fixed his gaze upon Oin. The healer scrambled to pick up his
dropped ear trumpet and positioned it in his ear canal, attentively leaning in
for whatever Fili would say next.
Fili cleared his throat and, enunciating as clearly as he could, he said to Oin
one very simple truth.
“Dwalin is dead.”
Oin gave a loud burst of laughter and the tears of joy began to spill down his
wizened face. When Fili made to speak again, Oin regained his composure, leaned
in again with his ear trumpet, and waited. But despite his patience, Oin was
still unable to fully wipe the grin from his mouth or the twinkle of mirth from
his eyes.
“Kili is badly injured,” Fili said, “but he’s in the care of the elves. They
are doing everything they can to save him.”
“Oh, he’s in good hands, then,” said Oin, nodding. “Them elves know more than
me, and that’s th’ truth. A couple o’ thousand years to learn healin’? What I’d
give fer that!”
“I’d like to see him,” said Fili. “Please?”
Oin tsked and shook his head. “Not yet, lad,” he said. “Ye need to rest after
all ye’ve been through.” His grin returned, this time with the hint of a smirk.
Then he winked at Fili. “Yer clever, ye know that?”
Fili frowned, confused. He shook his head, wordless. Oin pocketed his ear
trumpet and, still grinning, lifted up a pair of torn, sex-stained trousers.
Kili’s.
Fili suddenly realized that Oin knew exactly what they had done. He looked down
at himself, a little frantic. Oin had at least had the decency to cover him in
a sheet, but if Fili shifted his body a little, he could feel the touch of the
soft fabric upon his still-exposed maleness. If he inhaled a little through his
nostrils, he could catch the faint scent of passion still lingering in the air.
He closed his eyes again and felt the flush of embarrassment rise in his
cheeks.
“Don’t tell anyone,” he whispered.
“Eh?”
“I said, don’t tell anyone!” Fili yelled. He opened his eyes and glared
pointedly at Oin.
The old healer’s smirk grew wider and he tossed the torn trousers away across
the room. “Ah, not t’ worry, prince,” he said lightly. “It’s rare amongst
brothers, but not unheard of for our kind. We all thought ye’d end up with him
anyway, ever since ye were wee laddies. ‘Course, this quest really buggered the
sheep on that plan, but it was what we were thinkin’ would happen all along.”
He stroked his beard ponderously and let out a heavy sigh. “Shame ye want t’
keep it a secret, though. We all took wagers about four years back. I’d a won a
pretty penny, too.”
Fili’s jaw dropped.
“You took wagers? On me and Kili!?”
“Oh, aye!”
Fili had no response to that. He didn’t even know what to think anymore. In his
confusion, he ran a hand through his hair and settled it on the scar on the
back of his neck. Then he remembered just how the scar had come into being. He
decided then that it was never too early to try and change that habit. He
dropped his hands into his lap and stared at his fingers. He brushed one of his
thumbs over the other just beneath the thumbnail. It felt good, oddly so.
The gesture reminded him of Kili. His mate, now. His beloved.
He smiled a little and said, “I suppose we are a lot alike.”
“Aye, laddie,” Oin murmured. He leaned in and nodded towards the foot of the
bed, and when Fili got the message, Oin helped him settle back down into the
bedding. Once Fili was situated, Oin arranged the blankets around him and said,
“Not t’ worry. We’ve all got our secrets. Yers is safe with me.” He stood and
crossed the sparse room and picked up the trousers again. “I ‘spose I’ll get
rid o’ these on me way out. Hide the evidence, an’ all.”
“Thank you, Oin,” Fili whispered. He closed his eyes, deeply grateful, and he
listened to the door as it opened, then closed.
When Fili was alone in the room, he reached out through the bond to his
brother. Kili’s spirit was healed and well, but still asleep inside his broken
body. But at least now, thanks to the care of the graceful folk, Fili could
sense that Kili was no longer so close to dying. They had rapidly stabilized
him. In time, he would physically heal, and then they would be together. For
the rest of their lives to come, they would be as one.
At that, Fili smiled to himself and let his brother have his well-deserved
rest.
From the brief moment of touching Kili’s spirit, Fili knew then that his own
soul was not yet healed from what Dwalin had done to him. But at least now, he
was free from the continued horrors of that brutal life. Now, with Dwalin
forever sleeping in a barrow in the recesses of his memory, at last Fili could
begin to truly heal. It would not be an immediate thing, and it would not be
easy, but at least now Fili knew, both in his heart and in his mind, that one
day, in the not too distant future, he would be whole again.
It was a comforting thought. It was a thought upon which he now shaped the days
to come.
 
 
Chapter End Notes
     Sindarin Translations (Shoddy grammar and all):
     Legolas and Thranduil:
     Ada! Ho neth gwanur ion Thorin! - Father! He is Thorin’s young
     sibling-son!*
     Baug îr harna ernil sen? Orchoth? - What monster would lust to wound
     a prince like this? Orcs?
     Ú orchoth. Hadhod. - Not orcs. Dwarf.
     Ai! - Ah!
     Orgol hadhod gwann, sen – Kili – ho gwanath. Edhellen belain ho
     nestad? - The monstrous dwarf is dead, this one – Kili – he is dying.
     Can elvish magic heal him?
     Im hartha. Ho tôg hortha! - I hope. Bring him quickly!
     Healers:
     Ranc amarth. - The arm is doomed.
     Tôg athelas! - Bring Kingsfoil!
      
     Vocab:
     Ada – Father
     ho – he
     gwanur – brother, kinsman, or kinswoman
     neth – young
     ion – son
     baug – evil demon
     îr – sexually desire
     harna – wound
     ernil – prince (not necessarily a ruling prince)
     sen – this
     orchoth – orcs
     ú – not
     hadhod – dwarves
     ai – Ah, as in an exclamation
     orgol – monstrous
     gwann – state of being dead
     gwanath – dying
     edhellen – elvish
     belain – divine power
     nestad – heal
     im – I, me
     hartha – hope
     tôg – bring, lead
     hortha – speed, with haste
     ranc – arm
     amarth – doom
     athelas - Kingsfoil
***** Chapter 39 *****
Kili awoke to a red-black shroud of darkness that held him pinned in place. He
could not move. He could not even try to move. Everything hurt too much.
He inhaled a deep, pained breath and focused on the sensation of air in his
lungs. That was all he could manage to do in the agony that consumed him. He
listened to the sound of his own breath coupled with the feel of it in his
lungs, and the pairing of the auditory with the physical was enough to anchor
him in consciousness.
He swallowed, but the motion hurt. He did not dare try to open his eyes.
Instead, he focused on the sounds around him. His breath, low and deep in his
ears. The gentle rustle of cloth some distance away. The soft sound of a voice
in a language he could not understand.
“Aen ho? Kili?”
His name. Kili knew his own name.
He willed himself to listen.
“Hadhod ernil?” A woman’s voice said. “Ho thelion send. Ihevnar, ho nestad.”
“Ir innas ho al caeleb adertha ah în bair?” That one was a male. His voice was
low and timeless.
“Al anann,” the woman said. “O în harw…” She gave a soft sound that might have
been an expression of sorrow. “Im ú aníra eg Erebor. Nûr hên.”
The male was silent a moment. Then when he spoke again, his voice was dark.
“Deleb baug, al lhaew hadhod harna nîth.”
“Aen thand, o Thorin?”
Kili gave a soft gasp as he heard his uncle’s name. He willed himself to speak,
but his tongue felt like lead in his mouth.
“Ho gwann? Thand,” the male said, mournful sounding. “Einior gwanur ion nuitha
caun.”
“Sen hadhod aran Erebor,” the female said. She sighed heavily.
“Prestannen.”
“E, cerir.” She gave a soft tsk and said, “Tiria, ho hên - ah ho ava maetha
eden.”
“E foeg nad?”
“An în gweith – Angfang – manadh.”
Angfang. Kili knew that word. Longbeard.
I’m awake, he tried to say. But his voice came as only a low grunt.
“Im iest în gweith gwîn rada,” the male said, not noticing Kili’s struggle to
speak.
“Im cerir. Ai, Legolas! Ho echui!” Kili suddenly felt her presence right beside
him. “Kili? Can you hear me?”
Kili groaned and tried to nod, but as he did so, his head pulsed in agony. He
grimaced his way through the pain and he tried to open his eyes, but the
searing light of wherever he was proved to be too much for him. He squeezed his
eyes shut again.
“Ohh…” he finally managed. “Did I get trampled by an Oliphant?”
“Kili, you must stay still,” the she-elf said.
“Do you remember the battle?” asked the other.
“I think so,” murmured Kili. “Ugh.”
His memory was hazy still, but the experience of warfare and of Dwalin trying
to claim him – to kill him – was there, buried beneath the fog of his physical
pain. But somehow those recollections, recent and damaging as they were, hardly
seemed to bother him. There was only the agony in his body. The memories could
not possibly hurt more than that.
“Did we win?” he asked.
“Yes,” the female elf said. Kili could hear the hint of a smile in her voice.
“The orcs were destroyed – not a one survived.”
Kili sighed softly, relieved. The battle was done. The war was finished. And he
and Fili were alive.
But he was tired, so tired.
“You are safe here,” the male elf said. “You may rest as long as you need to.”
At the gentleness in the stranger’s voice, Kili let his unconsciousness come
back to him. Like a warm and comforting embrace, the sleep took him. Freely, he
surrendered himself to it.
* * * * *
When Kili awoke again, he was shivering.
Fever, he knew. Strange how the body reacted to brutality.
He opened his eyes and managed to keep them open. Darkness had fallen. Someone
had lit a yellow tallow candle at his bedside. Beside the taper, something
sweet and earthy-smelling burned in a small copper cesure.
The tranquility seemed to permeate his being, and even despite the shivering
pain, he felt whole. Exhausted still, but otherwise whole.
He drifted away again into slumber, and as he went, he thought he dreamed of
birdsong.
* * * * *
The third time Kili startled into wakefulness, body pulsing in pain, it was
some time during the day.
When he opened his eyes, he could faintly see tall shadows on the other side of
the green-grey walls of the tent. There was a gap in the doorway and through it
shone the pale blue of a daylit sky.
He swallowed and tried an intake of breath. It hurt, but he could breathe. The
pain in his body had diminished somewhat, and though he was still keenly aware
of the low and pulsing sensations in the many injured parts of him, he felt all
right.
“You are awake,” a soft voice said, from behind him.
Kili tried to crane his neck to look, but a burst of pain that started in his
shoulder and radiated inwards through his chest stopped him.
“You should stay still,” the voice whispered. “You were nearly killed.”
From behind Kili stepped an oddly familiar looking elf. His pale yellow hair
hung to his chest and his eyes were a deep and timeless blue. He wore robes of
silvery green and a thin coronet of spun silver.
“Who are you?” Kili murmured. He coughed a little to clear the thickening in
his throat. “Where do I know you from?”
“My name is Legolas,” the elf said. “You met my father when we captured you.”
“You’re their prince,” Kili said. He frowned, growing suspicious. “What do you
want with me?”
Legolas only gave Kili a small, knowing lift of the corners of his mouth.
“Naught but to see you healed,” Legolas said. “I know Fili, and I am fond of
him. And I know you are his mate.”
Kili’s eyes went wide. He was suddenly sweating.
“How do you know that?” he whispered.
Legolas’s faint smile grew a little into something closer to an actual grin.
“Fili and I became something of friends while you were held in Mirkwood,” the
elf said. “During the battle, I could sense Fili’s spirit on the field. When we
won our victory, I went looking for him, and I found you instead.”
“How?” Kili asked, confused. “What… I don’t understand.”
“My kind can sense the emotions of others,” Legolas said. “Fili has a very
distinctive spirit, and much as you can feel him in you, I too can sense him. I
can sense that his soul is now a part of yours.” He reached over onto the
bedside table and pulled open a small drawer and from it, he withdrew a small
pouch. From the pouch he took a pinch of a sweet-smelling herb and dropped it
into the copper censure on the end table. He used the stub of the tallow candle
to light the herbs. Then he set the candle back down and said in a whisper,
“You two have achieved something that, to my knowledge, no dwarvish pair has
ever managed to do. You and Fili forged a second mating bond. That is simply
remarkable.”
“How did we do it?”
“Love.” Legolas gave Kili a warm smile. “You love him, and he loves you.
Through your love, you were able to overcome Dwalin’s hatred for the both of
you and you were able to defeat your enemy.”
“Dwalin is dead, then?”
“Yes,” said Legolas. “You killed him.”
Kili’s eyes drifted closed and he let out a low, relieved sigh, contented.
“We did it,” he whispered. “We actually did it.”
Legolas remained quiet. In the ensuing silence, Kili listened to the soft
crackle of the herbs in the censure and inhaled the sweet, earthy scent of the
smoke. As he did so, the pain in his body ever so slightly began to diminish.
When he opened his eyes again, everything was a little bit blurry, and he
wondered what Thorin would think if he knew that his nephew was being drugged
by elves.
He gave a soft little laugh at the thought and, when the herbs took their
effect and lulled him to sleep, he went willingly.
* * * * *
When Kili dreamt, he was in a forest full of mist that stretched as far as the
eye could see. A few birds sang from the treetops, whistling their three-note
song in gentle, sad harmonies. Green vines peppered with tiny yellow flowers
climbed their way into the trees, and the undergrowth of ferns and ivy reached
up to caress his fingertips. Sunlight filtered in through the trees, the
scattering of its light by the mist lending an ethereal, other-worldly beauty
to the grove.
He breathed in. He could smell the clean scent of nature in its perfectness,
pristine and open and full of splendor unlike that which could be found
anywhere beneath the earth.
A forest like this could not exist in the real world.
He was in Fili’s mind.
Fili, Kili murmured, wondering where he was. Where are you?
I’m here.
Kili spun at the closeness of the soft voice behind him. There, only a few
paces away, was Fili. He was just as Kili had last seen him.
Fili was naked. He was rail-thin and still covered in scars from where Dwalin
had brutalized him. He was sitting with his back to a tree, knees drawn up to
his chest. A thin chain of gold and mithril extended out from a collar fixed
around his throat, and at the sight of the length of chain, Kili knew that the
other end of it was affixed to a collar that weighed upon his own neck.
He ignored the chain and instead focused on the person at the other end.
I’m sorry, Fili whispered, breathless. I didn’t want to be alone anymore.
Did you bring me here?
Fili nodded. He sniffed back a sob. His blue eyes were wide and shining with
unshed tears. He pointed a finger off to his right.
When Kili looked where Fili was pointing, he could make out a dark patch of
forest in the distance. There, amidst a black cloud of ash and writhing,
decaying vines, was a barrow. The plant life twisted chaotically as it grew up
and crumbled into mulch around the grave. Sometimes, when the rate of decay
overpowered the rate of the regrowth, Kili could catch a glimpse of the dwarf
whose spirit lay forever in that place.
Dwalin, Kili whispered. He forced himself to look back at Fili.
He’s here, Fili shuddered. He’s always here.
Quickly, Kili closed the distance between himself and his brother. He dropped
to the ground beside Fili and wrapped him in his arms. Fili moaned quietly as
Kili pulled him into an embrace and he descended into tears.
Kili… Kili!
I’m here now, Kili whispered as Fili cried softly against him. He can’t hurt
you.
Through his near-silent weeping, Fili said nothing. Kili cradled him close as
he felt a few droplets of water come down from the skies and splatter on his
bare skin. As the rain began to fall, he gripped his brother tightly to his
chest as the water drenched them both. Soon the rain soaked Kili through and
through, but the cold discomfort of the water could not bother him, for he knew
that it was only rain in the mind and not in the real world.
As Fili wept in Kili’s arms and around them in the forest, Kili squinted off
through the rain at where Dwalin lay in his barrow. In the downpour, the vines
and plant life slowly ceased their writhing and regrew back over the grave,
hiding the sleeping evil from Kili’s sight. The rain seemed to dampen down the
cloud of ash, beating the soot into the earth where the vines and yellow
flowers grew up over the death and turned the old and dead into something new.
It was as if the shedding of Fili’s tears had calmed that dark part of his
mind. As the rain finally began to diminish as Fili cried himself out, Kili
sighed, peaceful, and stayed with his brother until the sunlight returned.
Eventually, Fili pulled himself out of Kili’s arms. His eyes were reddened, and
Kili used his thumb to gently brush his brother’s tears away. Fili still looked
gloomily up at Kili, but at least now the forest was calm again, and the barrow
in the distance was as still and as silent as any grave should be.
Are you all right? Kili asked.
Fili nodded and, shivering a little, he said, Yes. I think I’m better now.
Are you cold?
Yes.
Kili held his arms open, inviting Fili to come to him. Fili came and let Kili
wrap him in his arms. Together they settled down in the dewy grass and Kili
cradled his brother close until Fili’s cold skin warmed to the touch. There,
they lay together until Fili’s shivering ceased.
What is this chain? Kili asked, thumbing the mithril and gold.
It’s from Dwalin, Fili said, quiet. He brought us together. Now, because of
him, we are bound to one another forever.
Kili frowned at how miserable that seemed to make Fili. He didn’t think that
was such a bad thing, really. After all, there were worse people to spend his
life with than his gentle brother.
Can we ever escape the forest? he asked.
No, Fili said. It’s me, remember? I can’t escape because of that. It just…
appears. I can only wait for it to fade away, like a dream.
You can’t just wake yourself up?
Fili shook his head. It has to leave on its own, he said.
Does it? Kili asked, concerned. Leave on its own, I mean.
Fili sighed and rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. Then he stopped
himself. He dropped his hand back to the earth in front of him and pulled his
arms in close against his chest. He rolled over then to face Kili. Fili was
quiet as Kili wrapped him in his arms, and Kili took comfort in the closeness
of their bodies and their gentle and innocent intimacy.
The forest does leave, Fili said eventually. It’s just… it’s unpredictable.
I know how that is, Kili said. By Mahal, he knew how unpredictable and
uncontrollable emotions could be. He gave his brother a warm smile and rubbed
his brother’s back soothingly between the jutting shoulderblades. You get used
to it, and they can’t really hurt you. They’re just feelings.
Your feelings were never used as a weapon against you, Fili whispered. His eyes
drifted closed as he hid the pain they held. Dwalin took everything from me and
used it to hurt me. My soul died because of what Dwalin did to me. Then he gave
a deep sigh and admitted, Actually, I died twice. Once because he beat me to
death, and once because I mated with you.
Oh, Fili! Kili felt a deep twist of sadness in his chest at Fili’s words. He
pressed a kiss to Fili’s forehead, his sense of sorrow and pain only
diminishing with the feel of Fili’s skin beneath his lips. I’m so sorry I hurt
you.
It’s okay, Fili whispered. I don’t think our kind is supposed to mate twice.
It’s hurt me, doing that.
What else could we do? You were dying.
I don’t think we did the wrong thing, Fili said, but I just… don’t know how to
live like this.
Maybe you just need to find what’s good about it, Kili said. He glanced up into
the glistening trees and listened to the soft, soothing sound of water drops
falling from the trees. Somewhere in the distance, a bird sang the first few
notes of a song that Kili had learned from their mother. Listen, he said. Do
you hear that?
Fili went still for a moment. As Fili listened to the gentle sounds of life in
his forest, Kili focused on the feel of his brother’s body beneath his hands.
The slow rise of Fili’s chest, the warmth of Fili’s inner radiance, and the
gentle beating of his heart, beneath the rib cage and the scars, attesting to
Fili’s tremendous ability to endure all that he had lived through.
Kili could not think of a stronger living creature than Fili. How anyone could
see Fili as weak even now – especially now – eluded him.
He closed his eyes and held his brother close.
Why are you still so injured here when I am whole? Kili asked.Isn’t this your
mind? Can you not restore yourself?
I used my power to heal your soul, Fili said, quiet. I know what Dwalin did to
you in the real world. You’ll have enough hurt there, brother. But in the mind
– the pain is so much worse. I did not want you to suffer my fate.
I cannot bear the thought of you hurting, Kili said. He wanted more than
anything for his brother to be whole. Please tell me what I can do to help you.
Fili was silent. Then he gave a low, weary sigh.
Dwalin sleeps here in this place, Fili whispered. His barrow is made from parts
of my mind, but the burial is… unstable. Sometimes, when I find myself here
again, in the forest, I am at his resting place. I have thought about digging
him up, waking him. And because I am thinking it, I guess… the forest starts
disintegrating around his grave. I have wanted to wake him because he… well, he
is the one thing I know here, in these strange woods.
You don’t have to wake him, Kili said. He brushed his thumb over Fili’s cheek
and pressed a kiss to his forehead. He’ll hurt you.
I enjoy the pain, Fili admitted. He reddened as he said it. Sometimes I… I just
want to feel something familiar. His hands, even though he hurts me. I… He
trailed off and swallowed, deeply ashamed of himself.
You can tell me anything, Kili said. You know that.
Fili let his eyes drift closed. I like it when he hurts me, he whispered. And a
part of me… enjoys submitting to him. I take pleasure in the submission
sometimes… no, all the time. He sniffled softly and his blush deepened. I don’t
think I know how to take pleasure anymore without being forced to submit.
Forced? Kili winced as he said the word.
Yes, Fili said, admitting the bitter truth. But I don’t like it when I can’t
predict how badly he'll hurt me, or when I’ll find myself here again, tempted
to… to dig him up and have him… beat me. Rape me. Tear me up inside.
Kili shuddered involuntarily at the brutality of it, but he made himself stay
silent. He bit back his own threatening tears and just listened to what Fili
had to say.
It’s been several days since the battle, Fili said, and I have been wholly
unable to control when the forest appears, or when I want to be with him. As a
mated pair, you know? When Kili nodded, a bit weakly, Fili continued. I find it
hard to leave our room in Erebor because just being around other dwarves is
enough to… to frighten me. It brings me back into the woods. And then I… just
want him to be with me because it’s the only thing that brings me pleasure
anymore. But it hurts. It just… hurts.
Oh, Fili… Kili whispered, not knowing what else to say. I don’t want you to
feel pain.
Fili said nothing, but again the rain came back. Only this time, it was
gentler, and it ended sooner, and the cold of it was not quite so penetrating.
When the rain had stopped again, Fili gave a small, sad sound.
It’s okay, brother, Fili murmured. He held up his right hand and closed his
fingers, only partway. The healing of the severed tendons had crippled him for
life. He sighed, dropped his hand, and whispered, Pain fades.
Maybe so, Kili acknowledged, sweeping his rain-soaked hair out of his eyes, but
if you keep reopening your wounds, you will never heal.
Fili was silent at that.
As Kili wiped away Fili’s tears, his arm brushed up against the chain between
them and the metal links gave a soft clink as they moved. The sound of it
reminded Kili of the chain’s permanence.
What happens when you find yourself here, Kili asked, and I’m not here?
Fili stared at Kili.
You are here, Fili said. But you are sleeping.
Kili blinked at his brother.
So, you’re chained to me, he said, trying to make sure that he understood
correctly, and I’m asleep. But you still want to wake Dwalin, even though he’s
over there, in a barrow? Wouldn’t it just be easier on you if you woke me
instead?
I have not wanted to burden you, Fili whispered. It’s not fair to you.
What! Kili snorted in sudden laughter. He couldn’t help it – it was just too
ridiculous, the notion that anyone should have to bear such excruciating pain
by themselves. He kept laughing even as Fili blushed a deep shade of red, and
as the sunlight came out once again and the birds in the trees began to chirp
merrily, laughing along, Kili kissed Fili tenderly, letting his brother know
that they weren't laughing at him. You are no burden, Kili said sweetly, not at
all. You are my brother! I’m supposed to help you when you ask me to.
Why?
There is no why, Kili said, staring dumbfounded at Fili. Or at least, I think
it’s silly to think that asking why is relevant when I love you. Love doesn’t
need a reason. That’s stupid, thinking that it does. Not that you're stupid, I
mean. Just that... the idea that love needs validation is stupid.
Relevant and validation? Fili repeated quietly. He gave a soft exhale that
sounded almost like a chuckle. Those are big words for you.
I think I got 'em from your head, Kili said. He watched Fili, intrigued and
curious and still unable to fully wrap his mind around the wonder that was his
own cherished brother. I think… because I love you, and I know you so well, and
now because we’re mated, and because that bond was forged in love, I can read
your mind. He smiled faintly. Oh, isn’t that something?
I suppose it is, Fili whispered. His brows knit together in thought.
Remarkable, the way that minds work.
Aye, Kili agreed. He beamed at his brother, who returned the expression with a
wan smile of his own. Kili brushed his thumb over Fili’s eyebrows, smoothing
the furrow from between them. We share a mind now that we’re mated. You never
have to be ashamed of asking me for help when things get hard. Does it help,
having me here?
Yes, Fili whispered, nodding. I’m better now than I was.
If I came to you when the forest appears and just… held you, would that be all
right?
I think it would, Fili whispered. Then he nodded, reassured. Yes, it definitely
would.
Okay, Kili said, kissing Fili gently. Then you must let me know when you need
me. If I’m asleep here – Kili jangled their chain and raised his eyebrows at
Fili – then how am I going to know when you want me?
I promise to let you know, Fili said. Then his smile faded. Will you still come
to me even knowing that I will… never be whole again?
At that, Kili exhaled a low, sad sigh. He gently took up both sides of his
brother’s face in his hands. When Fili’s eyes went wide, Kili said to him,
resolute, You are whole in my eyes. I never want you to think otherwise. You
are the same dwarf I have always known and loved. You’re healing. That hurts –
it really does. But you are whole, and you just need to see that in yourself.
Kili… Fili closed his eyes. His blond lashes were still stuck together from his
crying, but this time, he no longer had tears. I don’t know if that’s true.
Kili kissed Fili on the forehead. Then he pulled his brother close once more.
Together they cherished their closeness beneath the forest canopy, as near to
one another as their souls could possibly be.
It is true, Kili said. It’s true because I am never going to leave you alone
until you see the good in yourself. I love you, and I want you to see yourself
as worth loving. Regardless of what has been done to you. Or rather, to us. He
swallowed as he remembered his own broken body back in the elvish tent, and
Fili’s body, permanently damaged from what Dwalin had done to him. He forced
himself to finish saying what he had meant to say. Our bodies may never be what
they once were, but we are whole here, in this place, if we want to be.
The trees don’t last, Fili murmured. Eventually we have to face the real world.
Well, then we will face it together, Kili said. Whatever happens, we have each
other now. And nothing can tear us apart. Not even the ghosts of the dead.
At that, Fili gave Kili a wan, rueful smile. He said nothing, but Kili could
sense that Fili had regained his calm.
Will you stay with me here?Fili asked. Stay awake until I fall asleep?
Of course, Kili said. I will stay with you forever.
At the reassurance, Fili’s smile grew wider and he closed his eyes. He drifted
away into a quiet, calm slumber, so quickly after being drained of his tears.
Kili watched Fili sleep for a while. He stifled his own yawn and gently eased
himself out from under his sleeping brother. He looked around at the forest
floor. There beside them, at the base of the tree, was a heavy cluster of
flowered vines and grass with long, broad blades. Kili touched the grass and
felt the velvety texture of the leaf.
Then he had an idea.
He plucked a handful of the blades and laid them out on the ground before him,
lined up side by side. Then he carefully intertwined a bunch of additional
grass blades in with the first layer, making a simple yet tightly woven blanket
from the soft grasses. When he finished, he lay down again beside his sleeping
brother and covered them both with the grass blanket.
Fili stirred a little with the touch, but did not wake.
Kili watched him rest, smiling only to himself as he too drifted off into a
much needed slumber.
* * * * *
When Kili awoke in the tent, for the first time the pain in his body was not
the first thing he noticed. Instead, he noticed the voices. More elves. Still
speaking softly in that strange tongue of theirs.
He opened his eyes and let the world come into focus around him. He turned his
head to look at where the voices were coming from.
There on the other side of the tent, he could see three elves. One was
Thranduil – Kili would recognize him anywhere – and the elf king was clad in
something that looked like a gown and his ornate circlet looked oddly like
branches growing from his head. The second elf was Prince Legolas, in his
silvery robes and his thin circlet, and he looked to be pleading softly with
his father, who was stubbornly shaking his head. The third was a she-elf and a
beautiful one too, and she was the only one in armor, but she still had on a
skirt.
They looked funny, those skinny elves in their dresses. Kili snickered a
little, but gasped when a sharp jab of pain shot up through his pelvis into his
belly.
“Kili!” The female elf rushed to Kili’s side and was followed by Legolas and
Thranduil. “Are you all right?”
“Still hurts,” Kili said. He groaned and frowned up at the three beardless
faces above him. “How long have I been here?”
“Eight days,” Thranduil said softly. “We did not wish to move you.”
“Do you remember what happened?” Legolas asked, quiet.
“Ohh… “ Kili groaned as the memory came back to him. He remembered. By Mahal,
he would never forget that. “Dwalin nearly killed me.”
“You are fortunate to be a dwarrow,” the she-elf said. “Had you been a man or
even an elf, what that dwarf did to you would have killed you.”
“Do I know you?” Kili asked her, puzzled. He thought she looked familiar
somehow.
“My name is Tauriel,” she said. She smiled faintly. “I arrested you in
Mirkwood.”
“Kili,” Thranduil said, quiet. “The outcome of the battle has changed the fate
of Erebor in ways that I cannot begin to explain to you here. I believe, if you
are ready, it is time to return you to your people under a banner of truce.”
“Truce?” Kili glanced from one stoic elf to the next, confused. “I don’t
understand.”
“Some of the dwarves… believe we are holding you hostage,” Thranduil explained.
“They have sealed themselves once again inside Erebor. They demand that we
return you immediately, in full health, otherwise they will wage war against
us. You must know that this is a very delicate situation. If the dwarves of
Erebor seek to go to war after this battle, they will lose.”
“Oh… Fuck.” Kili dropped his head back onto the pillow. “Does it never stop?”
“It stops when you want it to,” Thranduil said. When Kili glanced back at him,
the elvish king had dropped his eyes to the ground. “Thorin is slain.”
“What!?”
Kili tried to bolt up in the bed, but the ripping pain that shot through his
body forced him back down against the pillows. He groaned as the stars twinkled
in his vision. As the waves of pain coursed their way through him and finally
began to ebb, the bitter reality of his situation settled in.
“Oh no…” Kili gasped.
“Shh,” Legolas whispered. He pressed a cold, wet cloth to Kili’s forehead.
“Please, be calm.”
“It cannot be… it cannot be!” Kili moaned. Thorin, no! He felt a deep wave of
sorrow for the death of the uncle he had loved as a father, but he managed to
keep it from overwhelming him until he could do something more than just lie in
bed, in pain.
Tauriel and Thranduil exchanged a dark look.
“Kili,” Tauriel said, dropping her voice to a whisper, “we have received word
in secret from inside Erebor, explaining everything. We have been asked to meet
in order to avert another battle.”
“Who sent the message?” Kili asked Tauriel. “Was it Fili?”
“No,” Tauriel said. “It was Dis. Your mother.”
Kili gasped. Oh, Mother… He realized then just exactly where he had acquired
his own deep-seated subversiveness. He closed his eyes, wishing Fili were here.
Fili would know what to do.
He reached out through the bond for his mate and there, deep within his being,
Kili could feel Fili’s presence within him. Fili was calm right now, resting
and in quiet solitude, but at Kili’s summon, Fili seemed to take notice of his
brother’s presence. They shared briefly in each other’s presence, unspoken
emotion shared between them, and then Kili, knowing Fili’s mind, had his
answer.
“Yes,” he murmured. “We will meet. Mother and Fili only.”
Legolas gave a small, knowing smile and Thranduil, cool and collected as ever,
nodded his head in agreement.
“We will bring you to our lands,” Thranduil said. “There we can…”
“No,” Legolas said, cutting off his father. When Thranduil turned to Legolas, a
look of cold horror at his son’s interruption, Legolas addressed him with calm
and collected defiance. “Our kingdom places Fili, Kili, and their mother at a
disadvantage. You know that, Ada.”
The faintest hint of color rose in Thranduil’s cheeks. He inhaled deeply
through his nostrils as if recollecting himself after his son’s gentle rebuke.
At last, Thranduil nodded. Behind them both, Tauriel glanced at Kili and gave
him a mischievious, almost imperceptible wink.
Kili couldn’t help but grin at the sight. Perhaps dwarves and elves weren’t so
different after all.
On that thought, he closed his eyes again. Before he went to sleep, he said,
“We meet in Dale. Tonight. I’ll let Fili know.”
And with that, Kili drifted off once more, knowing that the next time he awoke,
it would be to the face of his beloved.
 
 
 
 
 
                              * * * * * * * * * *
The conversation at the beginning of the chapter is between Legolas and
Tauriel, in Sindarin. Below is the translation of their discussion, notes on my
intended meanings of certain phrases, and a glossary of terms. Please pardon
the shitty grammar.
Translation:
Legolas – “Aen ho? Kili?”
How is he? Kili?
Tauriel – “Hadhod ernil? Ho thelion send. Ihevnar, ho nestad.”
The dwarf prince? He remains unconscious.1 A week now, but he is healing.
Legolas – “Ir innas ho al caeleb adertha ah în bair?”
When will he be ready2 to reunite with his people?
Tauriel – “Al anann. O în harw… Im ú aníra eg Erebor. Nûr hên.”
Not for a long time. But concerning his injuries… I am not sure he should
return to Erebor. Poor thing. 3
Legolas – “Deleb baug, al lhaew hadhod harna nîth.”
A horrible and oppressive cruelty, how some4 dwarves harm the young.
Tauriel – “Aen thand, o Thorin?”
Is it true, about Thorin?
Legolas – “Ho gwann? Thand. Einior gwanur ion nuitha caun.”
That he is dead? It is true. The elder nephew has been disinherited.5
Tauriel – “Sen hadhod aran Erebor.”
So this dwarf is king of Erebor.
Legolas – “Prestannen.”
That troubles you.
Tauriel – “E, cerir. Tiria, ho hên - ah ho ava maetha eden.”
Indeed, it does. Look at him, he is a child – and he will not fight again.
Legolas – “E foeg nad?”
Is that indeed a bad thing?
Tauriel – “An în gweith – Angfang – manadh.”
For his kind – the Longbeards – it is doom.
Legolas – “Im iest în gweith gwîn rada.”
I wish his kind could find a new way.
Tauriel – “Im cerir. Ai, Legolas! Ho echui!”
As do I. Ai, Legolas! He’s awake!
Intended_meanings_of_direct_translations:
1 “Remains unconscious” is indicated by “one who remains firm in his purpose”
followed by “rest,” indicating that Kili remains unconscious not by choice, but
because his body is willfully keeping him in a state of rest in order to heal.
2 “He be ready” is the intended meaning of the literally translated phrase, “ho
al caeleb,” which means “not be bedridden,” indicating that once Kili is no
longer bedridden, he will be stable enough to return to Erebor.
3 “I am not sure he should return to Erebor” is the intended meaning of the
literally translated sentence “I do not want him to go to Erebor,” indicating
that the female elf does not want Kili to go back to the dwarves because of how
they have treated him. “Poor thing” is the intended meaning of the literally
translated sentence “Sad child,” indicating that the female elf has significant
empathy for both Kili’s youth and his condition.
4 “Some” is indicated by “not many,” implying that even amongst dwarves, such
cruelty as what Dwalin did is exceedingly rare.
5 More literally, the last sentence reads as “The elder sister-son was not
allowed to become the ruling prince.”
Glossary_of_terms:
aen – cognate of Quenya word for “may it”, interpreted depending on context to
be either “how is” or “is it”
na – to be
hadhod - dwarf
ernil – prince (not necessarily a ruling prince)
ho - he
thelion – one who remains firm in his purpose
send – rest
ihevnar – a week of five days
nestad – healing
ir – when
innas – will
al – no, not
caeleb – bedridden, sick
adertha – reunite
ah – and, with
anann – long, for a long time
o – concerning, about
în – his (possessive)
harw – wound (noun)
ú – no, not
aníra – want, desire
eg – interpreted to mean “go”
ad – back, again
nûr – sad (interpreted to mean “poor,” as in deserving of mercy)
hên - child
deleb – horrible, abominable, loathsome
baug – tyrannous, cruel, oppressive
lhaew – frequent, many
harna – to wound
nîth – youth
thand – firm, true, abiding
gwann – state of being dead
einior – elder
gwanur – brother, kinsman, kinswoman
ion – son
nuitha – to stunt, to prevent from coming to completion, stop short, not allow
to continue
caun – ruling prince
sen – this
aran – king of a particular region
e – can be interpreted as “indeed”
cerir – to do
tiria - to watch, to gaze, look at
ava – will not
maetha – to fight
eden – new, begun again
foeg – mean, poor, bad
nad - thing
presta - to affect, trouble, disturb; prestannen interpreted to mean “to
trouble you”
an – to, towards, for
gweith – 1, manhood; 2, people; both meanings intended.
manadh – fate, doom, final end; interpreted to mean an unchangeable fate of
certain death
iest – wish
gwîn - new
rada – make a way, find a way
echui – awakening
***** Chapter 40 *****
Fili and his mother crept through the hidden passageway, with little but a
candle to light their way. They kept quiet as they went, being discreet so as
not to be seen. They had dressed in dark, nondescript peasants’ clothes with
heavy-hooded cloaks to conceal their royal identities. Dis wore several weapons
on her body, but Fili had only a dagger. It was all he really had the strength
or dexterity to wield now, but that was just as well. After all that had
happened, he did not think he had it in him to use a blade again.
Fili held firmly to his mother’s arm as she helped him move as quickly as his
bad leg would allow him through the winding, chilly stone corridors. As they
went, he took in his surroundings. The lavish green marble of the central halls
had long ago given way to the nondescript, roughly hewn grey of the miners’
tunnels. He had not been conscious the last time he had been here, but somehow,
it felt familiar, as if he had been here before, recently, as if he were
revisiting a not-too-distant past.
“Did you bring Kili this way?” Fili asked Mother in a whisper.
She nodded and held her finger pointedly to her lips. She paused for a moment
and squinted into the darkness, and then, when she seemed satisfied with what
she saw, she said, “We don’t have long. If Gloin returns to find us here, he’ll
have to report us, and Niris doesn’t want anyone leaving. So we must make
haste. Come.”
Fili did his best to double his pace as Mother started off again down the
passageway, and he had the distinct sense that Gloin’s absence from the secret
door that night was no accident.
When they reached the door, Mother pushed it open and they were met by a gust
of frigid winter air as it swept down off the slopes of the mountain. Mother
let Fili go for just a moment and he heard the door close behind him. In the
brief and transient moment of silence that ensued, Fili stood without help, and
in his quiet solitude, he basked in the wonder and the beauty of the earth.
Fresh snow had recently fallen. The air was crisp and clean and the moonlight
bathed everything in glistening silver. The countless stars in the sky seemed
to trace patterns and images, as if the pinpricks of white amidst the blue-
black had been laid out by some artist, some creator unknown and unknowable, as
if the makers, whomever they were, had intended the little earth-bound souls to
see the beauty of a world beyond the mountain halls.
How humbling, such benevolence.
When Mother appeared by Fili’s side once more, he smiled at her, took up her
arm, and together they made their way down the slopes towards the ruin of Dale.
There, they would resolve what troubles still lingered and rejoin what was left
of their family.
That thought touched something deep inside Fili, and his little moment of peace
slipped away into the familiar feeling of melancholy that had come to be his
norm. As they went down towards the city, through the snowy graveyard of the
war that had been waged just days before, Fili ruminated on the feeling of
sorrow that, at the thought of family, had grown up inside his heart.
Then the cause of his sadness dawned on him.
Thorin.
Fili had not seen Thorin since the battle, and no one had given him a straight
answer when he’d asked about his king. Mostly bedroom-bound on account of his
brokenness, Fili had heard almost no word about the goings-on in Erebor, the
outside world, or the fates of his kin. What little he had managed to pry out
of his infrequent companions – Oin mostly, Bofur on occasion, sometimes Ori –
was that they had won the war; Kili was being held hostage by the elves; and
Dain was acting steward of the throne. Even after five days, when Mother had
been well enough to join Fili in the sparse bedroom, no one had mentioned a
thing to Fili about the well-being of his king.
“Mother?”
She paused and turned towards him.
“Is Thorin dead?”
Mother’s smile faded. She dropped her eyes to the snow and sighed softly. She
closed her eyes and, solemnly, she nodded.
“Oh… Thorin…” Fili could not have contained the soft sound of anguish that
escaped him. “Oh no! Why did no one tell me?”
A wave of sorrow flooded Fili and swept him away, back into the forest of his
misery. There in the woods, as the downpour began in earnest, he reached for
his brother’s sleeping spirit. When Kili stirred, then awakened, he immediately
realized that Fili now knew the truth, and he closed his arms around his
brother and held him as the despair flooded its way through Fili’s soul.
The overwhelming emotions coursed through him, stronger than ever since that
day he had mated with Kili, until they began to diminish, tempered by the
comfort of Kili’s presence in Fili’s mind, and with Kili’s help, Fili finally
managed to regain a sense of control over the chaos in his mind, and the rain
stopped falling. The clouds parted, and the night sky above in the mind world
shone with the starlight above Erebor. The trees and the ferns and the flowers
slowly evaporated and the forest floor gave way to the snowy earth of the real
world, and, just as quickly as the forest had appeared, it was gone.
He opened his eyes. Mother was still there with him, and he watched her,
forlorn, as her smile returned. But this time, it was rueful, and her eyes were
shining even as she brushed the tears from Fili’s face. He had not even known
he was crying. He felt himself blush, ashamed to be seen in such a moment of
vulnerability.
“I am sorry, my son,” Mother whispered. She pulled him into her arms and held
him close. “We didn’t want to hurt you any further.”
“But I loved him so,” Fili murmured, despairing. “I deserved to know the truth.
How could you hide that from me?” As the feelings overwhelmed him once again,
his knee gave out and he collapsed into the snow and descended into quiet
tears.
“Oh, my son!” Mother cried. “I have never seen you like this!”
She dropped to the ground beside him and swept him up and she held him until he
stopped shaking. When Fili finally wept himself dry, still in his mother’s
embrace, he felt drained and empty once again, back in the emotionless void,
stabilized only by the presence of his brother in his mind and his mother in
the real world.
Fili opened his eyes and pulled out of Mother’s arms. Miserable, he slumped in
the snow.
To feel again, to feel something real, something familiar, he touched his hand
to his cheek and traced his fingers over his shorn beard, and up over the back
of his neck, feeling the raised scar that cut through his hairline. As he did
so, the remembered pain of his first night with Dwalin radiated up through his
pelvis and into his belly, then higher into his lungs, where it seemed to mix
with the breath that had hitched inside him. When he exhaled, the pain seemed
to leave his body on the breath, and he dropped his hand away from the scar,
forcing himself to remember that no comfort was to be found there, in reliving
the memories of his breaking.
“It hurts,” Fili whispered. “Everything hurts so badly still.”
“I know,” Mother said. “He put you through so much, but you will recover. Love
will heal you. I promise you that.”
“But love is what did this to me,” Fili said sadly. “I don’t want to feel love
anymore.”
“Dwalin did not love you.” Mother said. Only her glistening, teary eyes
betrayed her pain. “He never loved you, even if it felt like he did.”
“But… but I came to love him,” Fili confessed. “I loved him, and I trusted him,
and he nearly killed me.”
His heart ached at the raw memory of his dead mate, beloved still, forever
inside him, and his words seemed to disintegrate into meaningless noise in his
mind.
How mad, love had driven him.
Again, the forest began to reappear intrusively in his thoughts. In the woods,
he could see the roiling of Dwalin’s grave, tempting him with the false comfort
of that violent embrace. He fought his desire to awaken Dwalin’s sleeping
spirit, and instead, he focused on the gentleness of Mother’s arms in the snowy
world and the benevolent presence of his brother’s soul inside him. Taking
strength in the compassion of his kin, he managed to find his voice again.
“I think love has broken me,” he said. “It split my soul apart. Most of our
kind love once, and I’ve loved thrice. I don’t think we’re supposed to do that.
Oh, Mother! I don’t know what to do! I don’t want to feel love anymore.”
“You cannot live without love!” Mother gently touched Fili on the sides of the
face and guided him to look her in the eye. “If you try to do this alone, you
will spend a lifetime with no companion but the lingering evil that sleeps
inside your heart. There is nothing you can do to change the fact that Dwalin
hurt you and is still inside of you, and unless you turn to love, you will
never, ever be able to escape him. He sleeps until you wake him, but he will
always tempt you, and you will always want to go back to him unless you love
yourself enough to not give in to him.”
“But how can I trust myself to leave him alone?” Fili asked, miserable. “I
can’t stop thinking about him, even after he… he… tore me apart. Over and over
and over! I couldn’t stop loving him, and I couldn’t stop loving anyone else,
even after being mated. Loving Thorin, loving Kili…” A sudden wave of horror
washed through Fili as he realized what he had just said. But somehow, he
didn’t care anymore. He had to get the truth out. “Mother, I mated with Kili!
What is wrong with me?”
“Oh, son!” Mother held Fili all the tighter. “I know about you and Kili.”
Fili gasped in horror. He jerked himself back, out of Mother’s arms, and he
gaped at her, wordless.
“I encouraged it,” Mother said before Fili could find his thoughts again.
“There’s nothing wrong with what you two have done, for you love him, and he
loves you, and that bond saved your life. You would have died without help, and
he was the only one who, under the circumstances, could help you.”
“But… but you don’t understand,” Fili said. “Mating with him… it broke me
further. I don’t even feel like a single person anymore. It is as if there are
three of me” – Fili jabbed himself in the temple with his fingertip – “Up here,
there are three. There’s me and Kili and Dwalin, but they’re all just parts of
me now, aren’t they? They became a part of my soul, and I… I can’t do anything
on my own anymore without them being there. Intervening! Kili holding me, or
Dwalin… tempting. Oh, Mahal…” Again, his thoughts disintegrated into
nothingness.
“Kili may forever be a part of your soul now,” Mother said, “but his presence
there is a good thing. He would never, ever do anything to hurt you further. He
loves you.”
“But love itself hurts!” Fili moaned. “It doesn’t matter whether he means to
hurt me, he does! He just… does. Just by being there in my mind. He picks at
the grasses in my mind and tramples the flowers and he snores when he sleeps
and… and he’s just… there! Always there! What if he cuts down the trees to
build things or kills the birds for food? Oh, no… not the birds…” Fili buried
his face in his hands.
“Fili, listen to yourself.” Mother sounded deeply alarmed. “You are speaking of
things that do not even exist.”
“But they do!” Fili closed a fist as best he could and beat his knuckles
against the side of his head. “They exist up here. They exist in the soul, in
my mind. In my mind, Mother! They’re real! The pain they cause is real. It
really does hurt, in here.” He pressed his other palm to his sternum, over the
ache in his chest. “Is this what it means to have a broken heart? Oh, Thorin!”
Again, he began to weep.
“Mother,” he shuddered out, “I need your help.”
Mother was silent at that. She held Fili’s trembling form in her arms as Kili,
in the spirit forest, held Fili’s soul until the pain began to subside, just
enough for Fili to bring himself back to the real world.
Here, in reality, he was cold and on his knees in the snowy graveyard of a
finished war, where Mother still held him close, a strong and soothing
presence, a small glimmer of hope amidst the death and the winter that
surrounded them.
“My son,” Mother said, “I will always help you in any way I can, even if I am
not sure exactly how to do so yet. We’ll figure this out, the three of us. You,
me, and your brother. We’ll make it thorugh this as best we can. I promise
you.”
“But Kili’s hurt, too,” Fili said. The memory of Kili’s breaking on the
battlefield flickered through Fili’s thoughts and he felt a dull wave of pain
course up through his body, where Kili had been injured. “You haven’t seen his
wounds. He… might never walk again.”
Mother closed her eyes and drew in a long, slow breath through her nostrils.
Then she opened her eyes, stoic mask in place again, hiding her own suffering,
and she said, “Then that is one more problem that we will have to solve
together. We will deal with that soon enough. But right now, we have another
challenge to face. Tonight, we must put things right, or all that Thorin fought
for – this quest, our homeland, yours and Kili’s freedom – all may be lost. Do
you think you can handle this, meeting with the elves, if I am there with you?”
Fili’s heart sank as he remembered what they had yet to do. He closed his eyes,
exhausted. He barely had the strength to finish the march down to Dale, much
less spar wits with elves, ancient and wise and unreadable beings as they were,
about Erebor’s succession.
He didn’t think he could handle it. Not today. Perhaps not ever.
Fili had trained his whole life to be a ruler, but now, after being shredded
down to bones, the harsh realities of death and war and suffering in the name
of power and greed were enough to sap the last of his vitality.
Ruling was a game to them, he realized then. Leadership of a kingdom was a
gamble between the sharpest minds and the most ruthless of living souls, and
after all that Fili had seen and experienced in the name of gaining power, he
no longer had it in him to be a ruler. Absolute power was a prize that Fili no
longer had the strength or the desire to win.
That meant he was no longer a prince. And never again would he be one, for that
future was long since destroyed.
Now, he didn’t even want it.
That did not mean that he was without his grief.
In his rainforest, Fili laid his head down in Kili’s lap, while in the snowy
real world, he gave himself up to Mother’s embrace. There, he rested,
despairing for the loss of his future and all that he had ever known.
It’s all right, Kili whispered. It’ll work out for the both of us. Somehow,
we’ll be okay. I promise you, Brother. We’ll make it through this.
Fili opened his eyes once more and pulled himself out of Mother’s arms. She let
him go, and he sat there in the snow and wiped the last of his tears from his
beardless face.
“I don’t think I can do this,” he confessed in a whisper. “I no longer know
what to say, or what to think.”
“Do you think you would let me handle this tonight?” Mother asked. “You and
Kili could just listen so you know what we are discussing?”
Fili glanced up at her, and then he nodded, weakly. “I think so,” he said.
“Do you trust your mother to ensure that this works out for us? For you and me
and Kili?”
Again, Fili gave a nod of his head. Mother returned his assent with a small,
sad smile and she got to her feet. She brushed off the snow and extended her
hand to her son and gently pulled him up. Once Fili was standing, he breathed
in deeply and let out his fear on a shuddering exhale and took up Mother’s arm
once again. Then, as they resumed their walk back down to the ruin of Dale, he
went with her where she led him, trusting her to know the way.
***** Chapter 41 *****
Fili kept his reticence as he and his mother finished the long walk down to
Dale and went up the old cobblestone road into the ruined city. Inside, Fili
caught a glimpse of firelight in a high-up window. After the battle, some of
the men of Laketown had returned to the city, and judging from the presence of
the firelight, they too were beginning to rebuild what had once been destroyed,
salvaging what they could of this old and desolate place.
“I don’t know where they are,” Mother said, glancing around the burnt-out
buildings. Each street looked much like the next, and they wound for what must
have been miles throughout the city. It was the perfect place for a clandestine
meeting, but locating their allies was the first challenge. “You need to ask
Kili where to find them.”
At Mother’s urging, Fili closed his eyes and reached out for Kili’s presence
inside him. Briefly, he convened with his brother and, once he had an idea of
which way to go, he motioned to the left-most street and said, “They’re that
way. A few hundred paces. Then we go right at the fountain. They’ll be in the
watch tower.”
Mother nodded and they set off again over the cobblestones. With Fili’s
directions, they soon found themselves at a burnt-out stone tower which,
missing its crown, made Fili think of a kingdom without a king. He sighed
remorsefully at the thought.
“Is Kili the King under the Mountain?”
“He will be when he comes of age,” Mother said, stone-faced. Then she added, “I
am sorry, my son.”
Fili sighed. “It’s just as well,” he said. Then he let it go.
Together, Fili and his mother went inside the dead tower.
The secret meeting place was little more than a decrepit ruin long since
consumed by dragon’s fire. The stones inside were blackened, and a few charred
and ancient skeletons lay where they had fallen with the coming of Smaug so
many years ago. Yet there, standing in the middle of the ruin, were three tall
and very much living figures, along with a fourth injured person, who was lying
in a stretcher on the floor.
“Kili!” Fili gasped.
He let go of his mother and ran towards his brother. He made it two steps
before his knee gave out beneath him and he collapsed to the dusty floor. One
of the elves rushed to his side, but Fili shook off the help and hauled himself
towards Kili until he could grab hold of his brother’s outstretched hand.
“Fili?” Kili whispered. He blinked a few times as if confused, and then, as it
dawned on him that Fili was truly there, he burst into an overjoyed smile.
“You’re here!”
“Of course I’m here!” Fili pressed a kiss to Kili’s forehead. Kili closed his
right arm around Fili’s shoulders, and Fili gently brushed his fingertips over
Kili’s scarred cheek. For a moment, the rest of the world seemed to fade out of
existence. All that mattered was that they were together again, and that they
would be together forever. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”
“Ah, safe,” Kili murmured. He gave a low groan as their mother knelt beside
him, on his left hand side. Fili glanced over at Mother, worried, but Kili
simply smiled up at her, saying, “Can’t feel left arm. But ‘sokay. Elves’ magic
is… good.”
Fili looked up at the three elves as he remembered their presence. Two he
recognized – Legolas the prince, and his kingly father, Thranduil – and a
third, a woman in hunting gear, whom Fili did not know.
“Can you give him something for the pain?” Fili asked them.
“If we give him more, he will sleep,” said the huntress. “Though in his present
state, I am not sure he will remember much of this conversation.”
“Tauriel,” Thranduil said, followed by something in Sindarin. The huntress
named Tauriel turned to her king and he whispered briefly in her ear, and when
she nodded, Thranduil turned his attention over to Fili. “Thank you for coming.
Your mother has explained everything to us, and we wish to resolve a series of
threats that have arisen in the wake of Thorin’s death.”
“Oh…” Fili murmured. He winced at the painful reminder, and he focused on the
feel of his brother’s hand in his own, keeping him here, in the real world
instead of in his forest of sorrow. “I confess, I do not know much of what has
happened. I have been… in solitude. For days, now.”
“Fili has been very distraught by all of this,” Mother said. “As you can
imagine.”
She stood and situated herself between her sons, where she knelt on the floor
and placed one hand on Kili’s right shoulder and the other between Fili’s
shoulderblades. Meanwhile, the three elves circled around to the other side of
the room. Tauriel disappeared into the shadows for a moment. When she
reemerged, she had found an old, soot-covered crate that she dusted off and set
down on the floor before her king. Thranduil whispered his brief thanks and sat
down gracefully upon the crate. As Legolas leaned in to whisper something in
Thranduil’s ear, Tauriel found a place in the shadows behind her king, in the
place of a watchful guardian. At last, Thranduil turned his attention back the
three dwarves, and Fili could not help but be reminded of the last time he was
on his knees before this elvish king.
Fili sighed, wearily, and squeezed Kili’s hand for strength.
Mother glanced briefly at Fili before explaining the current state of affairs
to the elves. “With Thorin dead, the throne has passed in title to his chosen
heir – Kili. Yet my son is a juvenile, so Dain Ironfoot has taken control as
steward of the throne until Kili comes of age. That could be… in a year or a
decade. It is uncertain with our kind. But in either case, it is Dain who now
rules Erebor.”
“Dain Ironfoot is a good leader,” Legolas said. “Their settlement in the Iron
Hills after the Battle of Azinulbizar was one of the most successful of the
dwarvish settlements since Erebor.”
“Yes,” Mother acknowledged, “But you do not know Dain, or his mate. Niris is
the mastermind behind Dain’s successes off the battlefield, and while she is
intelligent, she is also ruthless. She adheres to the patriarchal ways of
governing and cares little for individual lives. Hard work is rewarded by their
government, but for Fili and Kili… given the circumstances, I fear that the
succession crisis could put their lives at risk. Do you elves know what
happened under Dain’s leadership in the Iron Hills and why they were so
successful?”
Thranduil and Legolas exchanged a brief look with one another. Then, from the
shadows, Tauriel said, quiet, “He consolidated most of the money and the power
under his control.”
“That is correct,” Mother said. “Niris established two laws for Dain’s
government that solidified his absolute authority over that settlement. First,
she outlawed usury but failed to consistently enforce the law, so the dwarvish
bankers could be arrested at a whim. Second, she made it impossible for other
dwarvish leaders – with the exception of Thorin, as my brother was Dain’s king
– to gain an audience with Dain unless they paid the seat of the Iron Hills a
handsome fee.”
“That would ensure that those with power had no money while those with money
had no power,” Legolas said, emotionless. “But of course, Thorin would have
never realized it unless Dain openly defied him.”
“Only dwarves,” Thranduil muttered darkly, stiffening on his crate.
“As you know, they also believe that you kidnapped Kili after the battle, and
are demanding his return in good health. There is some… debate amongst my kin
as to whether this is true, or merely a paranoid assumption given our past
troubles with your people.”
“I harbor you no ill will,” Thranduil said. “If you must know, it was Thorin
who despised me, not the other way around.”
“That is a lie, Ada, and you know it,” said Legolas. “Forgive us, Princess Dis,
but there was a pragmatic reason as to why we could not help your people after
Smaug attacked Erebor. The dragon required a more cunning tactic than open war,
as young Bilbo Baggins has demonstrated. Thousands of people would have died in
vain if we had fought the dragon when he had first attacked.”
“Thousands did die,” Dis said, coldly, “But that is the past, and it is not
what I care about now. I care about what is to happen in the future. I care
about the succession of Erebor, certainly, but I care more about my sons and my
own life. I fully admit to my own selfishness in this regard. Can you blame me
after all that has happened to my people?”
The silence of the elves suggested that even if they could blame her, they had
no wish to do so. They were beyond such pettiness.
“How will you help me accomplish my goal of keeping my sons alive?”
“There is no threat to your sons’ lives,” Thranduil said, frowning almost
imperceptively as he glanced from Fili to Kili and then back to Dis. “Not from
me, I can assure you of that.”
“That is reassuring,” Dis said. “But the threat is from the dwarvish monarchy
itself. Look at my children. Look at what has been done to them in the name of
power and wealth.” Her voice was heavy with despair and anger and bitterness at
all the cruelties heaped upon her sons. “Dain is a wise leader, but I fear his
mate. What now stands between them and the throne of Erebor but two young
princes who are neither as experienced nor heartless as the power-hungry foes
which they now face?”
Fili swallowed as the looming danger inherent to their situation settled into
him like a stone and sank through his insides, leaving his body aching. He
closed his eyes and embraced the pain of it, letting his emotions course freely
through his being, and when Mother continued to speak, he only barely heard her
words.
He was back in his forest. It was here, where he would find his answer.
In the woods, with his hand clasped in Kili’s, Fili began to walk, in no
direction in particular, and he watched their fate play out as it had been
meant to be. Around them, the trees and vines and living things grew old and
withered and died, but in their places, new things came into being. As the
cycle of life and death played out before his eyes, the living things gradually
changed into new forms of being that Fili did not know. New trees and and new
flowers and new birds, living things in endless forms most beautiful beyond the
measure of knowledge, replaced the old and dying as he wandered through the
forest. In time, in his wanderings, he finally came to the edge of the
eternally changing trees and saw on the horizon the home that had cost him his
life.
As spirits, Fili and Kili made their way towards the Lonely Mountain, up
through the city of Dale, now restored to a splendor beyond that of the old
world, and to the gates of Erebor. They entered into their ancestral homeland.
There, upon the dais, Fili saw an old, childless king whom he did not know.
Some descendant of their cousin’s line, the last of their peoples’ leaders.
Durin, he knew, reborn for the last time into the world of the living.
The beauty of Erebor was ancient, but it was fading now, as all things are
bound to do. And now, the dwarvish people, ancient and first-made, were dying,
as it would inevitably be.
Together in the world of the dead, Fili and Kili descended into the depths of
Erebor, drawn to a place deep within the mountain where they found three tombs
of stone. On the middle tomb lay Thorin’s elvish sword. Ancient and covered in
dust. The other two flanking tombs were smaller and less ornate, but no less
noble than that of their long-dead king.
Fili knew then what was to be their fate. In the eyes of their people, they
would remain forever young, for as the casualties of war, their lives had been
the price of the future of Erebor.
It was a fate full of despair, perhaps, but not because it was death.
The end of life was inevitable; there was no escape from that fate. And though
death was sorrowful, the true tragedy of a death at so young an age, or at any
age, was the failure to find love. But Fili and Kili had that now. They had it
in each other, and that was a love that they would have for the rest of their
lives on this earth.
The thought was freeing.
In his mind, Fili felt the lingering weight of Dwalin’s chain around his throat
lift from his sallow skin. He looked down at the mithril and gold, such
material things, as the metal disintegrated into shimmering dust. Its
destruction left Fili and Kili bound together only by the joining of their
hands, and not by the will of another. Their love was now their own, and it
would be theirs until the end.
This is the only way, Fili whispered to Kili's ghost.
Kili squeezed Fili’s hand a little tighter, uncertain. A sad expression crossed
over his young face and he drew his lip up into his mouth, in thought. But
then, Kili nodded, trusting his brother, and in that moment, they both fully
understood what was to be done next.
Fili dropped his eyes back to Thorin's tomb. He imagined his lost love within
it, and he said his farewell to the dead. Then the world of his emotions and
spirit disappeared, as unpredictably as it always did, back into its hidden
place somewhere in Fili’s mind.
After a quiet moment, Fili opened his eyes. He found himself still there on the
floor, kneeling beside his brother and his mother. Kili was asleep. Fili could
sense that he was dreaming. Mother was still conversing with Thranduil about
things that Fili no longer cared about.
Softly, he cleared his throat, and his mother fell silent. Fili took a moment
to gather his thoughts before he spoke, but when he did, he explained his plan
briefly, clearly, and without room for argument. A brief look of sorrow crossed
Thranduil’s features, but then he nodded, very faintly, in agreement. And when
his mother agreed that this was the best course of action, Fili felt as though
a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders.
And now, having set the course of his future, he was finally free to rest.
***** Chapter 42 *****
Bilbo stood in silence at Gandalf’s side, weeping softly, as the company of
dwarves buried their king and their princes with honor.
Ten days had passed since the battle and the death of Thorin Oakenshield. Those
ten days had gone by like a sad and wearying dream, the type which left the
dreamer more exhausted when he awoke than before he had gone to sleep.
In the chaos following the battle, Bilbo had been forbidden to return home
until the return of Thorin’s chosen successor. He had also been forbidden from
seeing Fili during his final days. So too had Bilbo been forbidden from
attending the meetings of the dwarvish leadership, now made up of Dain
Ironfoot, a few other dwarves from the Iron Hills, and the nine remaining,
lucid members of Thorin's company. Technically, Bilbo should not have heard
what went on behind those closed doors. But thanks to his ring, Bilbo had
acquired the knack of going places where he was forbidden, and because he did
so, he had learned things that hobbits were never meant to know. And those
things that he had learned left him feeling nothing but sadness for the ways of
the dwarvish people.
In the wake of Thorin’s death, Fili’s disinheritance, and Kili’s disappearance
on the battlefield, the dwarves from the Iron Hills had swiftly assumed power
over the kingdom of Erebor. In accordance with Thorin’s wishes, each member of
the company was afforded a noble title and a portion of the vast wealth – one
fourteenth of the treasure, as promised. The portions meant for Thorin, Dwalin,
Fili, and Kili, however, were kept by the crown. For Thorin was dead, Dwalin
deserved nothing, Fili was dying, and Kili was still missing.
Such were the ways of dwarves, to value gold more than the spirits of their
kind.
For days, the dwarves had searched the battlefield for Kili, but they had been
unable to find him. It was rumored amongst them that Kili had been found by the
elves, and depending on whose opinion one took, he was being held for ransom,
being healed for his wounds, or being tortured to death. Everyone had a
different point of view. No one knew the truth. But upon hearing of Kili’s
predicament, the dwarves had overreacted and had taken the extreme course of
action, and they had sealed themselves and Bilbo into the mountain until Kili’s
whereabouts could be confirmed.
Only on the morning of the ninth day, after a message had been delivered to
Thorin’s sister, Dis, had the dwarves and Bilbo learned that Kili had perished
of his wounds.
Thranduil’s letter had explained everything. The young dwarvish prince had been
found on the day of the battle, but due to the graveness of his injuries, the
elves could not have risked returning him to his people lest he die in the
transportation. But not even elvish magic could have saved Kili from what
Dwalin had done to him, and though Kili had managed to slay the enemy, freeing
his brother's soul from the fate of eternal damnation, he had not been spared
the devastating injuries that finally, on the eighth day, had claimed his too-
young life.
After that, there had been little debate among the dwarves, not even those
hardened leaders from the Iron Hills, of whether to accept the peace-terms of
Thranduil’s letter. The elves would return the body of Thorin’s heir, along
with the Arkenstone and Orcist in exchange for a cessation of the violence
between their differing people. Dain had accepted the terms, and after a brief
discussion with his mate, had agreed to give Kili’s portion of the treasure to
aid the elves in defending their borders and Fili’s portion to the men of
Laketown to aid in rebuilding a way of life. Thorin’s and Dwalin's portions
would stay with the crown. Dain's mate had even suggested a future of trade
with their neighbors, but such things were barely discussed that morning, for
sorrow hung heavy in the hearts of all the dwarves at the loss of their king
and his nephew.
Their pain that day had only grown when they learned that Fili had also died.
No one had even shared with Fili the letter that told of his brother’s passing.
How he had come to learn of Kili’s death was at first dreadfully confusing to
Bilbo, but then, in yet another meeting on the afternoon of the ninth day,
Bilbo had learned the truth.
At midday, after the morning meeting, Oin had gone up to Fili’s room for his
usual care-giving business. But instead of finding his frail and bedridden
prince, he had only found Fili’s body. When Oin, in noisy tears, had explained
to the other dwarves that Kili and Fili had bound their fates together, Bilbo,
yet again invisible in the council chamber, had overheard it all.
It was no accident that Fili had died just after Kili. From what Bilbo could
tell from Oin’s explanation, the brothers had taken a gamble in mating with
each other to try and save Fili’s life. But it was the forging of that bond –
between a juvenile and a mated adult – that had ultimately doomed them both.
Being freshly mated had distracted Kili on the battlefield, and being mated
twice had stretched Fili’s soul too thin for sanity. Among dwarrows, the young
could not withstand the power of a mating bond, and infidelity was a death
sentence for the dwarf who was twice-mated. And so, when Fili had learned
through his bonds of the deaths of Thorin, Dwalin, and Kili, he had, in his
desperation, finally been driven to suicide.
Alone, in the small apartment where they had kept him, Fili had shredded one of
his blankets, managed to tie its looped end around one of the lanterns, and
there, in his solitude, he had hung himself.
When Bilbo had asked Gandalf about it, the old wizard had explained, sorrowful,
that true and genuine love was so rare among the dwarrows that it could kill
them if it was allowed to take its course. Loving more than once destroyed
dwarves, and Fili’s death had been sealed the moment he had dared to love his
brother.
It was not their way to love unbounded, Gandalf said, and it was the freely
given love between Fili and Kili that had sealed their mutual doom.
There were some things that wizards said that made no sense to Bilbo. How love
could kill anyone, much less the young, the good, and the gentle, was one of
those things.
Perhaps, Bilbo thought, wizards aren’t truly as wise as they are rumored to be.
But he did not say that to anyone, least of all to Gandalf. Such thoughts were
for Bilbo alone, and sharing them with his friend would only hurt Gandalf’s
feelings.
And so it was that late on the ninth day, Thranduil and two of his elvish
companions had brought Kili’s body back into Erebor. Dis had identified her
mutilated, nigh-unrecognizable son, and then she, Oin, and Gloin had
disappeared behind closed doors to prepare Fili and Kili for their tombs.
Even with his ring, Bilbo had not bothered to go behind those doors. It was not
his place to see that, even though he knew he could.
When Dis had finished preparing the bodies of her sons, she had sorrowfully
begged her cousin Dain to bury them right away, without waiting the customary
ten days, as had been done with her brother. It was enough to know that they
were dead. The living did not need the continuous reminder of their loss, or
the three separate funerals, for Thorin, Fili, and Kili had died because of
each other, and they should be buried with each other. In his compassion for
his kin, Dain had defied tradition, and he had granted her request.
The following morning, on the tenth day after the battle, they buried the
broken end of Durin’s Line.
Bilbo kept his silence as he watched Dain and Balin lay the shrouded bodies of
their kin in the tombs. He wept quietly as the Arkenstone was returned to its
king and placed upon the center of Thorin’s chest. But nothing cut so deeply as
watching Dis, stoic and beyond tears in her grief, as she laid her hand upon
the linen-covered cheeks of each of her only sons, and whispered her final
farewells before the dead were sealed forever in their graves.
The group of mixed peoples stood for a long, silent while after the end of the
funeral. Eventually, a few of the dwarves from the Iron Hills took their leave.
They were followed by the elves, but not before Thranduil laid Orcrist atop
Thorin’s tomb as a gesture of their reconciliation. Then, finally, most of
Thorin’s companions departed. Soon the only people left were Dis, Oin, Gandalf,
and Bilbo.
At the touch of Gandalf’s hand upon his shoulder, Bilbo let the wizard guide
him away. As they went, Bilbo gave one final glance behind him, and he quietly
said goodbye to the friends he would never see again.
Then he slept. In his exhaustion, Bilbo slept for days. In his sorrow, he could
have slept for a lifetime.
Bilbo stayed on at Erebor for several months before he finally found the
strength to take his leave. There was no rush, Dain assured him, but Bilbo’s
homesickness and the sorrow for the dead had left him yearning for the comfort
of his armchair, and for the quiet innocence of his gentle corner of the world.
He was not the only one, it seemed, who longed to leave Erebor. Thranduil had
stayed only for the funeral before he and his two companions returned to their
woodland realm. Dis had left soon after the elves, too saddened by the deaths
of her kin to stay in the place that had killed them. And finally, when the
snows melted and the spring began to come in, Gandalf and Bilbo set out on
their journey west, on their way back to The Shire, where Bilbo would be glad
to sit quietly for quite some time before he went on another adventure.
***** Chapter 43 *****
Fili awoke to the gentle song of birds in the trees beyond his bedroom window.
He stayed in the soft comfort of the bed for a long while after waking,
listening to the natural music that entered through the open arches into the
quiet sanctuary where he and his brother now rested.
It was early morning, too early still for dawn. The birds here in Mirkwood
awoke in the small hours of the day to sing to their lovers, merrily calling
out to one another under the shelter of darkness.
Small wonder that Fili always seemed to find himself awake at this strange
hour. The birds of the real world often pulled him from his long and dreamless
slumbers, reminiscent of the creatures of the mind-forest that had followed him
into Thranduil’s lands.
He had hoped the forest of his thoughts would leave him once he and Kili were
among the elves. But all that had happened upon crossing the borders of elvish
lands was that the lingering presence of Dwalin’s spirit and Kili’s strong soul
within his mind had disappeared. Now, when the forest came back to haunt him,
unpredictably as ever, he was alone in the trees once more. A hopeless wanderer
in his own mind, lost in the wilderness. Homeless now, as his kind had been for
decades, and alone when he wasn’t lucid.
But perhaps it was not so bad to be alone from time to time, in the misty
rainforest of solitude.
After all, it was good to have something for himself after losing all other
things to Dwalin.
He smiled, faintly, and as he listened to the singing of the birds, he closed
his eyes and drifted back into a dreamless sleep.
* * * * *
It had taken weeks – months, even – for Fili and Kili to adjust to the quiet
openness of Elvish living. The arched houses made of dark wood and pale stone
floors were mostly open to the trees, and they afforded little privacy like the
close, comforting confines offered by dwarvish settlements.
Fili hadn’t liked it at first, for he missed the guaranteed seclusion of their
sparse apartment in Erebor, but Kili had taken to it well enough, or at least
to the openness of forest life. But Kili didn’t particularly enjoy the constant
peace and quiet, much-needed as it was, and it took him a long time to realize
that he could startle the calm, complacent elves simply by being his rather
loud and still very emotional self. Yet after all that had happened, they both
still agreed that it was better than the alternative of life among their
hardened, war-like people, and after a while, they adjusted enough to life
among the elves to begin recovering from their wounds.
And so, for months on end, Fili and Kili spent their days doing nothing but
getting stronger.
It was not easy, the process of healing. With the helpful presence of their
mother, who had joined them in Mirkwood mere days after their arrival, and of
Legolas, with his wisdom and gentle counsel, the youngest descendants of Thrain
were able to regain some semblance of who they once had been. But not entirely.
Some wounds would never fully heal.
On a daily basis, Kili expressed his frustration and anger at the uselessness
of his left arm, and the crushing blow to his femur that had left him needing a
crutch for simple mobility. But despite his moodiness at the physical pains of
recovery, Kili was still getting better, and he never once thought of himself
as anything less than worthwhile.
Fili was not so lucky.
His body healed quickly enough, as it always had, but some of the physical
damage still lingered long after the most obvious signs of his trauma had
faded. Though he could eventually walk without pain in his knee, stairs still
gave him trouble. His hands remained scarred and half-useless, and the rasp in
his voice that Dwalin had given him would never fully leave him. But that was
okay, he decided after a while, for he had always been a rather quiet dwarf,
but it still saddened him, to have lost the ability to sing. The pain in other
places eventually faded as well. Though he could never be fully restored on the
inside, he finally reached a point of where his own flesh wasn’t a source of
bleeding shame just by its mere existence.
So it was, with bodies. They were damaged and they healed, but never entirely,
and wholeness had to be found in what strength and beauty was kept, and not in
what was lost to the inevitable decay of time.
And what have I kept of myself for the future, Fili wondered, as the raped and
disinherited and now dead prince of dwarves?
Kindness to others, perhaps. Gentleness, too. Compassion for those who suffer
needlessly. And above all, a brother who loved him regardless of his faults.
The love between brothers, unconditional as it was, was all that Fili seemed to
need.
But there was something missing, and its absence kept him hollow.
He wished he knew what it was, for only then could he begin to fully heal.
* * * * *
On a quiet June morning, Fili awoke, early, as he always did.
The sunrise had colored the sky a warm orange between the trees beyond his
windows. In the east, Fili knew that the Lonely Mountain – his mountain, his
rightful seat – would be standing like a watchful guardian over the forest that
would never be his home.
He sighed, sadly, and pushed the past out of mind.
He pulled himself up and out of the bed and took up his trousers from where he
had left them on the floor. As an adult, Fili had grown used to sleeping in the
nude, and even now, more than a year after Dwalin’s death, he could not sleep
comfortably in clothing. It would only be torn off if he wore it.
He consciously had to remind himself that his days of torture were done.
He slid into his trousers and laced them up. Then, when he was concealed, he
looked down at his long-unattended sex through the fabric.
He swallowed painfully as the desire, gone for so long now, unexplored and
unwanted, blossomed once again inside him. Then, from somewhere in the recesses
of his mind, the memory of the first time he had touched himself came back to
him, unbidden.
Ugly, he remembered. He’d never wanted to touch himself there.
But his body was what it was. It had its own wants, and there was nothing that
Fili could ever do to change the desires he had, even though he hated them, and
hated himself for having them. There was no running from the truth of how he'd
been made.
“My body had betrayed me,” Fili whispered. Then, to himself, he admitted the
harsh reality. “I am the product of a rape. I did not choose what happened to
me, nor how I have been made. Oh, Mahal… why have you done to this to me?”
As he resigned himself to the reality of his experiences, Fili fell back into
the bed and curled onto his side, despairing.
The sorrow drained him of the budding arousal, and though it faded for now, he
knew that it would return. And when it did, there would be nothing that he
could do to change how he now wanted it. This was his way, to feel arousal at
the idea of being used and being consumed for the pleasure of another.
Things could have been so different.
When the tears came, they did so with an unearthly wail that stung in his ears
and ripped its way through his being. Immediately he felt the touch of a hand
on his shoulderblade and he turned in towards the embrace of his brother, who
held him until the agony ran its course. When the sorrow finally faded, leaving
him drained and desolate, Fili felt the gentle brush of a kiss upon his tear-
streaked face.
“I love you,” Kili whispered. “No matter what. And I will always love you.”
“I love you, brother,” Fili said, weakly.
And I love you, Fili, just as you are, Fili said to the forest of his despair.
It was not true. Not yet. But he hoped that in time, sometime in the not-too-
distant future, he would believe the lie.
* * * * *
In Thranduil’s kingdom, where the magic of the elves suppressed the presences
of Dwalin’s and Kili’s spirits within his mind, Fili spent hours each day
wandering his forest, searching for the long-lost past of who he once had been.
Always alone now amidst the trees and the ferns and the rain, he listened to
the birds that he knew weren’t actually there, and he wandered through the
landscape until he came upon things that reminded him of times that were now
dead.
Faces in the shadows. Scenes playing out in the distance, as if he were
watching his life from afar.
Thorin’s farewell to him. The memory of the beloved he could have had. The pain
at knowing that Thorin was dead, knowing that it would never be okay that he
was gone, and the hope that the elves were wrong about the spirits of dwarvish
people.
He wandered on, reintegrating his memories with his sense of self.
Kili’s presence and sunlight. Constant and warm and giving. Sometimes burning,
and unintentionally so, but mostly comfortable, always needed, always loved.
Eventually, his parents. Mother in her wise stoicism, Father in his loving
cheerfulness, and the compassion that they both had for their sons, for their
family, and for each other.
Other things, too. Memories from his dwarfling years. Singing, mostly. Songs
about beer and hunting and vandalism of a hobbit hole.
All the scenes of his life that played out before his eyes, with Fili, the
distant and emotionless observer. Just watching his life as it was.
Then, finally, he was ready to face the memory of Dwalin, and of all the brutal
things that Dwalin had done.
That hurt, watching those thoughts play out. But Fili forced himself to look.
To face the reality of what had been done to him, at the hands of a friend who
had abused his power and the trust that Fili had placed in him.
It was not Fili's fault, the way he had turned out. Fili always had to keep
reminding himself of that. And once he had faced the memories of his brutal
awakening to adulthood and accepted them for what they were, as just a part of
who he was, he truly did begin to feel better, albeit slowly. And with time and
the slow passage of the seasons, the pain began to soften, and soon enough,
Fili the dwarf began to feel like himself again.
* * * * *
October. Nearly three years since the end of that fateful quest.
The leaves were red against a cool, blue sky. Fili sat cross-legged on the
grass, hands in his lap, watching a small brown bird hop about in the branches
above. The little creature eyed Fili curiously before she gave a soft peep! and
puffed up her many head feathers, ruffling herself up as if just for the dwarf
who now watched her. Then she took wing and flitted up and out of sight, off
into the forest.
I love you, little bird friend, Fili thought after she had gone.
Then, peaceful, he got to his feet and headed back to the small, open forest
house that he shared with his brother.
Kili was in the sitting room, standing on one bare foot. He had a practice
sword in his good hand, and his arm was outstretched, pointing the unsharpened
blade at some invisible foe. His face was screwed up in concentration. He did
not seem to notice Fili watching him as he brought the blade arcing down into
his invisible foe, deftly after months of one-footed practice. But then, when
he got too excited and tried to swing again, he lost his balance and stumbled.
Fili rushed forward and caught Kili as he fell. His foot slipped on the smooth
stone and he too lost his footing and the brothers went crashing to the floor
in a noisy, flustered heap. Kili groaned loudly as he smacked his bottom on the
stones and Fili spluttered out his surprise as he caught Kili’s flailing left
hand in the face. He laughed and grabbed Kili by the tunic and flipped him onto
his back and clambered on top of him, expecting Kili to knee him in the belly
or toss him over his shoulders or otherwise scramble to get the upper hand.
But Kili did none of those things. Instead, he went still.
When the brief wrestling session ceased, Fili had come out on top. Legs
straddling Kili’s pelvis. Momentary rush of joy still coursing up through his
body, reflected in Kili’s laughing, smiling eyes.
When Kili’s smile diminished, something like desire seemed to grow in his eyes
and he drew his lower lip up into his mouth. Alluring. Innocent in appearance,
and truly beautiful. Then, for the first time since they had been mated, Kili
brought himself up to give Fili a chaste, tender kiss.
With the touch of Kili’s mouth upon his own, Fili’s eyes fluttered closed and
he parted his lips, letting Kili inside. At the feel of Kili’s kiss, something
tightened, nervously, inside the pit of Fili’s belly, and he felt the familiar
sense of arousal beginning to stir within him. As always, it was coupled with
shame and the desire to submit, but this time, it was free from fear.
Hesitantly, Fili hooked a finger on the lacing of Kili’s tunic and pulled the
cord free as he deepened the kiss, savoring the taste of his beloved. He parted
the clothing to reveal his mate’s body beneath the fabric, the dark hair that
dusted Kili’s body, and the feel of his skin beneath his fingertips.
When he pulled back, panting softly, Fili looked down at Kili’s body, heart
thumping as he remembered the pleasure that could come with intimacy, and how
sweet it must be to share that with someone loved, someone trusted. Someone
truly cherished, and whose love was freely given.
How wonderful it must be, to make love.
“I love you,” Fili whispered.
“I love you,” Kili said. He furrowed his brow a little and asked, “Do you… want
to try this?”
“I don’t know,” Fili admitted, blushing. “Do you?”
Kili blinked a few times. Then he dropped his eyes. “I can’t… function like
that yet.”
“Oh,” Fili said. “We don’t have to, then.”
“No, but I want to give you pleasure.”
Fili’s closed his eyes, unable to meet his brother’s gaze. Kili reached up and
traced his fingers over Fili’s bearded cheek and up into the unbraided golden
hair that reached just to Fili’s shoulders. Fili leaned into the touch and
pressed a kiss to the inside of Kili’s wrist.
“You do bring me pleasure,” Fili said. “Just by being here.”
“I would want you to be satisfied,” Kili said. “I don’t think I could do
anything if I knew you didn’t enjoy it. And you know, if you want something,
you can always ask me to help you.”
“You mean… beg for it?” Fili’s heart caught inside him at the memory. He
swallowed, suddenly nervous.
“No,” Kili said, quickly. “You never have to beg me for anything. You’re not an
animal, begging for scraps.” His voice sounded so sad as he said it. “You’re my
love, and I want you to be happy. Please, Fili. Let me know what I can do to
help you be content.”
“I am content,” Fili whispered. Then he realized that he had said it without
even thinking it. He was content. He was so content. For Fili had everything he
needed, right here, right now. “Oh, Kili! I’m content! Isn’t that something?”
Kili mouthed wordlessly, puzzled.
“I’m content to be me!” Fili let out a sudden peal of laughter. “Oh, I never
thought I would be!”
Kili only spluttered in surprise when Fili kissed him again, passionately and
freely. It felt good, so good, to love without obligation, to do so just for
the sake of being loving, and being loved.
They kissed there on the floor for a long time before Fili finally let go. When
he did so, Fili wanted more, to feel Kili's hand upon him and to feel his mate
inside him, but he did not need it. Not yet. Not until they were both ready.
For now, they were innocent. And for now, that was enough.
And now, for a lifetime, it would be enough to just be himself, exactly as he
was. To just be Fili the dwarf.
* * * * *
It was in the summer of their seventh year in Mirkwood when Kili finally
crossed the threshold between adolescence and adulthood. Fili only noticed in
the morning, after he had awoken to find Kili, already awake, sitting on the
edge of the bed with his back to Fili.
“Kili?” Fili laid his hand upon the small of Kili’s back, and Kili turned with
the touch. “Are you all right?”
“I’m an adult,” Kili whispered. He sniffled a little. He had been crying.
“Oh, beloved!” Fili pulled himself up and out of the bed and closed his arms
around his mate. Between the press of their bodies, Fili could feel Kili’s
heart beat, thumping hard beneath his ribs. “Whatever is the matter?”
“I… didn’t think it would be like this,” Kili admitted. “I had no idea the
desire was so powerful.”
Fili was quiet.
“I’m sorry, Fili.”
“For what?”
“When I woke up, with the seed, it was from a dream. You were in it. I was
holding you down. I was… hurting you. Causing you pain. But you were inside of
me, like when we forged our bond. And when I finished… it was to the idea of
possessing you. Of… you being mine. I’m so sorry.”
Fili swallowed. He drew in a deep breath and exhaled the old memories of what
it was like to be a possession. To belong to another in all things.
He did not want that. Not to be a slave. But Kili’s words had touched on some
deep-seated desire within him, an old, wanting ache at the idea of submitting
to his beloved. And by Mahal, Fili did enjoy being a possession, at least in
sex though not in anything else, and maybe there was nothing really wrong with
that, being submissive in intimacy, so long as it was freely given, not taken,
and never, ever forced.
Fili kissed Kili gently upon the shoulder. “Do you think it’s possible that we
could want certain things without wanting them all the time, in all contexts?”
“Oh, certainly.” Kili shrugged. “But… I don’t want to be like him. Especially
in that.”
“You aren’t like him. Not at all.”
Kili fixed Fili with a dark, intense stare. In his eyes was the lust that only
came with adulthood, and the sorrow that came with knowing how much it hurt to
be violated. There, in Kili’s eyes, Fili could see the restrained and well-
tempered dominance, and he knew then that Kili, having known from his own
experience, would never use his strength as a weapon against his Cherished One.
When Fili pulled back and moved away across the mattress, Kili made no move to
follow him. It was reassuring, and Fili found himself trusting him.
From a distance, Fili let his eyes roam over Kili’s features, appreciating him
just as he was, perfect as he was. Kili’s dark hair tumbled into his eyes and
over the scar on his cheek, and a short beard had finally grown in where he’d
once had only stubble. His broad shoulders and his chest were strong, and
though his left arm was useless, his right arm was well-muscled, and his legs
were toned from years of his balancing games. His skin was darkened by the
dusting of black hair, and time and a somewhat sedentary life and the natural
way of dwarvish bodies had filled in the sharp lines between the muscles in his
torso. Now, the subtle bit of softness gave Kili’s body the sensuality of a
lover rather than the rigidness of a fighter, and Fili realized then that it
didn’t matter what Kili’s body looked like, or how it functioned, or whether he
was young, old, heavy or thin, or anything really but who he was. He was Kili.
And that was all that mattered. And perhaps, just maybe, Kili felt the same way
about Fili.
Fili looked down at his own scarred body, at the proof of his necessarily thin
diet, at the ugliness between his thighs.
No, he reminded himself, gently. It’s not ugly. It’s just how I am.
Hesitantly, he touched his maleness and watched himself grow firm as the
sensation of pleasure made itself known within his body. It felt good, to touch
himself like that. To imagine Kili there beside him, kissing him, pressing him
down into the mattress, pinning him against the sheets to be claimed, if only
during the coitus, just as he wanted it.
“Kili….” Fili whispered. “I… would ask you to make love to me.”
“Are you sure?”
Fili swallowed, a little nervous. But then, he mustered his courage, knowing it
could feel good, and he nodded. “Yes. I am sure.”
“Okay.”
Fili was still as Kili crawled back onto the bed and slowly made his way
towards Fili. When their bodies were close, Kili kissed Fili chastely on the
lips. Fili slowly closed his arms around Kili’s shoulders, pulling him closer.
“Please, tell me if I’m hurting you,” Kili whispered between kisses.
Fili nodded, agreeing. Slowly, he lowered himself to the mattress until his
shoulderblades were pressed into the soft, comfortable featherbed. He parted
his knees as Kili gently pushed his way between Fili’s thighs, settling himself
against Fili’s naked body. There, Fili could feel his beloved’s stiffening cock
through Kili’s nightclothes, pressed against his skin.
Panting softly, Fili undid the laces of Kili’s trousers and pulled him free.
His breath hitched in his chest at what he saw. In his adulthood, Kili was
beautiful, thick and heavy in his full arousal and substantially larger than
what Fili had once been familiar with. It was a little worrying, and Fili
wondered if it was ever going to be a good idea to take Kili inside of him
after all that had happened. But how he wanted it, to have Kili push into him,
to use his body for pleasure, to claim him.
His cock swelled at the thought.
“Oh, Kili…” Fili closed his left fist around Kili’s cock and began to stroke,
tentatively trying things, listening carefully to the changing sounds of Kili’s
breath for signs of his pleasure. He traced his thumb over the leaking slit in
Kili’s tip, and his beloved gave a soft gasp of desire and an involuntary
thrust into Fili’s hand.
“Ah…” Kili moaned, softly. “That is… I didn’t know. Oh, Fili… it feels
wonderful.”
“Can you… touch me like this?”
Kili pulled back and looked at Fili, dark-eyed with desire, but rueful. Then he
whispered, “I can’t. Not if I’m going to be on top of you. I have to hold
myself up.”
“Oh.” Fili blushed, remembering. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry for anything, beloved.” Kili pressed his mouth to
Fili’s neck and he kissed the tender, bearded skin in the hollow beneath Fili’s
chin. “We’ll make this work.”
He pulled back and off of Fili and settled himself on his knees. Then with his
right hand, he gently pulled Fili’s thigh up around his waist. Like that, with
his legs parted and his body vulnerably exposed to his mate, Fili felt his
heart pick up its pace inside him, and his muscles tightened instinctually for
the pain of penetration.
“Ki… I can’t… take you in me like this. We need oil, or you’re going to hurt
me.”
Kili swallowed, and for a moment, he looked sad – disappointed almost. But
then, he nodded, and he brought his tongue out over his lips, offering pleasure
to Fili in exchange for nothing in return. “Do you want me to use my mouth?”
Fili squeezed his eyes shut and focused on how good it had once felt, how good
it would feel again, to have Kili’s soft, warm mouth around his cock, the
sensuous, painless pleasure, a gift from Kili to Fili.
He exhaled sharply, frustrated. The thought was making him soft.
“I need you to command me,” Fili said. “I need you to make it… about you. Not
me.”
“To claim you?” Kili whispered. His voice was low and sultry as he said it.
Instantly, Fili was hard again. He moaned, softly, and he nodded. “Yes,” he
whispered. “Make me yours, just for this moment. And talk to me. Tell me what
you’ll do to me before you do it. If it’s too much, I’ll let you know.” But
somehow, Fili did not think that anything would be too much from Kili. It would
be just right, just perfect, no matter what Kili did to him.
“Okay,” Kili said. “Get on your knees. Please.”
Fili was happy to obey. He laughed a little as he got onto all fours, for
Kili’s domination was so gentle, so polite, but it was still domination, and
that was what he wanted.
As he felt Kili position himself behind him, Fili remembered the sweet
sensation of being claimed, of surrendering his body for his beloved’s use. And
by Mahal, it felt so good when Kili pressed up against him from behind,
nestling his massive cock up against Fili’s cleft as he closed his right hand
around Fili’s fully aroused sex.
When Kili began to move against him, without penetration, and began to stroke,
Fili closed his eyes and let the pleasure of his submission course through him.
It was painless, lovemaking like this, but it was what Kili wanted to do to
him, and so Fili wanted it done. Kili moved against Fili’s entrance in time
with his strokes of Fili’s cock, sweeping Fili up in the pleasure, and the
anticipation of a lifetime in Kili’s embrace was almost enough to make him
peak.
“Oh, Kili… tell me I’m yours.”
“You’re mine,” Kili shuddered out, pumping harder. “I love you, Fili.”
“I love you,” Fili moaned, curling his fingers in the sheets. Little green
vines with yellow flowers began to grow up around his fingers and spread out
around him, and in his growing bliss, the wilderness consumed first the
featherbed and then the stone floor. Finally, the dark wood of the bedroom
walls and ceiling gave way to open sky, and then they were in a field of green
and yellow grasses that stretched as far as the eye could see. Here, the
radiant sunlight bathed the lovers in its warmth, and as Kili moved against
Fili, taking his pleasure, claiming him, Fili watched in awe as the worlds of
his reality and his mind integrated into one, and the gentle force of his
natural emotions swept him up into the rising sexual pleasure. He submitted to
his desires, to being who he was. He savored it, belonging to his mate, and
now, as Kili would always be his, Fili would always be Kili’s.
Without warning, Kili slightly changed the angle of his wrist, and Fili gave a
sharp gasp of pleasure. His ecstasy was mounting. He was getting close.
“Kili,” he cried. “Hurt me. Anything.”
Kili gave a low shudder behind Fili and thrust into his cleft. Then he paused
briefly, leaned in next to Fili’s ear, and whispered, “No.”
Fili groaned in pleasure at being denied the suffering. If Kili didn’t want to
hurt him, Fili didn’t want to be in pain. As he submitted to Kili's refusal to
hurt him, his passions peaked and sent him sharply over the edge of his climax.
His seed spurt out of him into Kili’s hand, and the waves of orgasm coursed
through his body as his beloved stroked him until he was empty.
Gasping in pleasure, Fili slowly settled down into the blissful calm that
follows the peak. He vaguely heard Kili’s low moan and felt the hot spurt of
stickiness on his back. He closed his eyes and collapsed into the grassy meadow
on his belly and felt Kili drop down beside him, panting softly, satiated.
They rested there together in their sweet refraction for a long while, just
cherishing each other’s presence. Eventually, Fili’s thoughts seemed to come
back to him, mingling with the bliss and with the love, and the natural
landscape of his mind faded back into the reality of the elvish forest.
Somehow, he did not think that the mind forest would be returning to haunt him
against his wishes.
He turned over to look upon his mate.
Kili’s skin was flushed and his features were slack with rest. When Fili
whispered his name, Kili opened his eyes and fixed Fili with a dreamy grin.
“That was amazing,” Kili said, happily. “We get to do that for a lifetime?”
Fili nodded. “There are other ways we can try it,” he offered. “Ways that use
our mouths and hands and… other parts of ourselves.”
Kili propped himself up on his right elbow, and as Fili traced his fingertips
through Kili’s beard, Kili kissed the hand and whispered to his beloved, “Is
there anything you really like? Sexually, I mean?”
Fili dropped his eyes. The old feeling of pleasure mixed with sadness ached a
little inside him. “Yes,” he whispered, a little embarrassed. “I have… rape
desires. I… think it’s because I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve
done this without… being violated.”
“Oh, Fi…” Kili’s expression was one of deep, empathetic pain.
“It’s okay,” Fili said. “They’re just feelings, and I cannot help having them.
I didn’t ask to want these things.”
“No,” Kili said. “Of course not. No one asks for the desires they have. To be
honest, I… wanted you in me half the time. And a part of me wanted to submit to
you.”
Fili stared at his brother in quiet surprise. “Really?”
Kili nodded. “I think it’s because of the way we forged our bond. It was
mutual. You are my mate, and I am yours. Right?”
“Hmm,” Fili murmured. “I guess I would have known that if we weren’t in elvish
lands.”
“We’re both submissive to each other,” Kili said. “Isn’t that funny?”
“Maybe,” Fili said. He grinned a little. “Or maybe that’s how love is supposed
to work. A mutual gift of submission, with no winners and no losers.”
Kili furrowed his brow, skeptically. “I think in love, there are only winners.
Aye?”
Fili thought about that for a moment. Then he smiled, content, and said
wholeheartedly, “Aye.”
* * * * *
Fili and Kili stayed on with the elves for a few more months before the sounds
of their passion began to disrupt the quiet of Thranduil’s kingdom. Though none
of the elves said a thing, Fili soon got the sense from Legolas that most of
the kingdom disapproved of the increasingly boisterous dwarvish pair within
their midst, and at the end of September, the two brothers decided that, as
mated adults, it was probably time to move out on their own.
“Where will you go?” Mother asked her sons, while on one of her recent visits
as the official dwarvish diplomat to the elves. “You cannot return to Erebor,
or any of the mountain settlements. You are too well known, and I fear for your
safety if you are found by any of the dwarvish lords.”
“We lived with men when we were young,” Fili said. He held Kili’s hand as they
walked through the forest kingdom, avoiding the cool gazes of the tall, prudish
elves. “They’re more tolerant of our kind than elves, are they not?”
“Yes,” Mother agreed. “You’ll want to live in a city to be less conspicuous –
after all, two brothers as the only dwarvish residents of a village of men is
bound to elicit rumors. But in a city, you will find work, and you will not be
the only dwarves that people see and thus will be less likely to raise
suspicion. Now, Dale is a poor choice, for obvious reasons. You could go to
Minas Tirith, but that city is… rather traditional in its views.”
“How do you mean?” Kili asked. When Mother gave him a pointed look, he narrowed
his eyes as he caught her meaning. “Is it because we are both male or because
we are brothers?”
“Yes,” Mother said, in her way of confirming both to be an issue. “The stewards
of Gondor are not particularly tolerant of our mating ways, nor of what they
call… buggery.”
Fili scowled at the degrading feel of that word.
“Men are so stupid sometimes,” Kili muttered under his breath, and Fili elbowed
him in the ribs.
Dis ignored the antics of her sons and went on. “You’ll prefer to be in a place
where your sort of love is welcomed as a normal part of life. Those tend to be
places with strong women, who know how to fight for their liberties just as
well as their menfolk.”
“Why should the two issues be the same?” Fili asked, curious. But then, when it
dawned on him, he said, softly, “Oh, I see. Ah. Yes, I suppose you’re right.”
Kili squeezed Fili’s hand slightly, reassuringly.
“What about Rohan?” Fili asked. From what he remembered from his studies, the
Rohirrim culture seemed to be the most dwarvish of Men – with good food, plenty
of beer, roaring fires, and a strong appreciation for craftsmanship. He thought
he might like to live among their kind.
Mother turned to him and said, “That’s perfect. You’ll be more than welcome
there. Their lords are good men and their women are strong and capable. Not to
mention, the horselords tend to enjoy fucking each other as much as they like
fucking their wives.”
Fili blushed deeply, while Kili snorted back a laugh.
“I just hope you like horses,” Mother said.
Fili and Kili exchanged a worried glance before Kili said, “Just don’t ask us
to look after them.”
Fili scratched a hand through his wild, regrown hair. “We tend to encounter…
slight problems… with keeping track of horses.”
“Or ponies,” Kili said. “Same difference, I suppose.”
Mother looked from one son to the other. Then she said, smiling, “Well, in any
case. I think you lads will enjoy Edoras. Now, come. Let us start planning your
next adventure.”
***** Chapter 44 *****
Fili paused in his playing at the sound of screaming and laughter in the hall
just beyond his music room. He set his fiddle down in its case, sprinkled
drying powder on the fresh ink of his latest composition, and looked up just in
time to see his mate come crashing through the study door, besieged by two
small, rambunctious children.
“Ohh! Éowyn! You’ve killed me!” Kili moaned as he collapsed dramatically onto
the bearskin rug before the hearth.
King Théoden’s niece gave a burst of laughter as she leapt onto Kili and beat
him with her wooden sword as hard as her tiny, toddler arms would allow. Her
war-cry was obscured by the man’s helm which hid the entirety of her happy
face.
“Surrender, dwarf villain!” Éomer, the king’s sister-son, scampered with his
toy horse up beside Kili, and he towered over the fallen dwarf, pointing his
toy spear at his foe.
“Oh, I’m dead, I’m dead,” Kili cried, feigning agony. Then he gave a pitiful-
sounding groan and went still.
When Kili stayed motionless, tongue lolling from the side of his mouth, both
children slowly calmed, and Éomer dropped his spear to the floor. The little
boy's smile faded into a look of deep concern.
“Master Kili?” Éomer gently nudged Kili in the side with his toe. Then, when
Kili didn’t move, Éomer looked with horror up at Fili, still sitting at his
desk. “Oh no, we killed him! We’re sorry!”
Just then, Kili gave a loud bellow and scooped both startled children up with
his right arm and crashed back to the rug in laughter, and Fili watched in
quiet amusement as Kili and the children resumed their wrestling.
Only after the flustered Marshal of the Mark came into the study, in search of
his stolen helmet and the wayward prince and princess, did the game finally
cease, and the two dwarvish brothers were left in peace and quiet as the
Marshal ushered the royals back to the Golden Hall.
“It never gets old for you, does it?” Fili asked, smiling, as he got up from
his desk. He joined his brother on the rug. “Teasing the children of Men.”
“Never,” Kili said with a grin. “Sorry to track mud into the music room.”
“I’ve gotten used to it,” Fili said, quietly. Then his smile faded, and he went
out of the study to go grab the mop from the kitchen to clean up Kili’s mess.
“Oy!” Kili called after him. He clambered to his feet and hobbled after Fili
and caught up to him in the hallway. There, he confronted his brother, and he
closed his good hand on the mop. “It’s my mess, love. You don’t always have to
clean up after me.”
Fili gave a small, rueful smile at that as he handed over the mop. “I know.
It’s just… you know how I get sometimes.”
“Dwalin?” Kili deduced. His voice was quiet.
“Summer is hard for me,” Fili said. “I can’t help but feel a little like a
servant this time of year.”
Kili frowned, but said nothing. Through their bond, Fili could sense Kili’s
sadness at the presence of the now-decades old wound that still lingered in
Fili’s spirit. Sighing softly, Kili leaned the mop against the wall and traced
his hand over the braided beard that now hung past Fili’s collarbone. Then he
tenderly pressed a kiss to Fili’s cheek.
“I know, beloved,” Kili said. “But he is dead. And you’re no servant. You’re
free. You have been free for fifty-six years, and you’ll be free for the rest
of your life.”
Fili smiled once again, reassured. “Thank you,” he said. “It helps to be
reminded of that.”
“I know,” Kili said. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” Fili said, to himself as much as to Kili.
At that, Kili’s grin spread up to his eyes, and he kissed Fili once again as he
took up the mop and headed back towards the music room.
Fili watched him go, fondly. Then he watched Kili through the open music room
door as Kili mopped up the mud on the stones and got down on his knees to clean
the mud from the bearskin rug.
With his age and his full, dark beard, Kili looked more like Thorin than ever.
But years of joy had made his countenance gentle, and in his kind compassion
and always sunny outlook, Kili would always be a better mate for Fili than any
other love he could have had.
They had led a good life together, Fili reminded himself, though it had not
been without its hardship. After all, Fili still carried the small bit of
Dwalin’s presence within his soul, and without the suppressing magic of elvish
lands, it had remained a constant source of sorrow, however small, in Fili’s
life. And though Dwalin’s memory no longer appeared as a barrow in the forest,
it was still there, deep within his past, and it was hard sometimes not to give
in and return to the familiar agony of his youth.
There were, however, things that helped to ease the pain. Music helped more
than anything, and with his natural talent for song, Fili sang through the
fiddle, and some years ago, he had finally earned a place in Edoras as court
composer for the king of Rohan. Having a purpose for a greater good did wonders
for Fili’s happiness, and he was more than glad that life had turned out as it
had, all things considered. It also helped to see Kili’s joy, and over time,
Fili had come to realize that freeing themselves from the obligations of the
throne had given Kili the chance to try new things, humbler and more enjoyable
things than being the ruler he’d never been meant to be. He’d turned out to be
quite good at toymaking, and his intricately engineered toys, with their
mechanical parts and mental puzzles turned out to be immensely popular amongst
the children of Edoras. And then, above all, it helped to have each other. Over
the fifty-six years since they had been mated, the intimacy between the pair
had only grown, and through their shared love, they had built a good life for
themselves that was mostly free from the ghosts of the long-dead past.
Perhaps, he thought, after fifty-six years, it is time to let the bitterness
go.
Fili returned to his mate’s side and sat down beside Kili on the bearskin rug.
He closed his arms around his mate’s broad shoulders, and Kili settled down
with his head in Fili’s lap.
Do you remember the forest? Fili asked through the bond between their souls.
Aye, Kili replied, nodding. I dream of it sometimes.
Me, too.
Do you ever go back there? Wander through the woods? Relive the memories?
Occasionally, Fili said. When I want to hear the birds.
And you do it by choice?
Fili nodded. It doesn’t control me anymore. Though I do admit, it is hard not
to wake him when I am there.
I remember when you did, Kili said, darkly. It was like our time in Erebor, the
state of melancholy it left you in.
Fili was quiet. He remembered that fateful choice to wake Dwalin’s sleeping
evil. He didn’t even remember what he’d been thinking, in choosing to reopen
that wound. And he’d only done it that once, thirty years ago now, but once was
enough to make him never want to do it again. The reliving of Dwalin’s
brutality had left Fili’s long-healed spirit torn open and bloodied and broken
all over again, and it had taken months to put himself back together in the
mind after just a single encounter.
Needless to say, he’d never done it since.
I’m glad he didn’t hurt you, Fili said to his brother. He could have.
You know it’s always a risk, Kili said. He laid his hand upon Fili’s cheek. I
wish there was something we could do about it.
There is, Fili said. Come back with me to the mind forest. Just one last time.
There, we’ll finish this.
Fili could sense Kili’s apprehension at the idea of it, but as Fili reassured
him through their bond that he had this under control, Kili gave in to Fili’s
urgings and, trusting him, he closed his eyes and let Fili take his spirit back
into the woods.
Fili closed his eyes and imagined the forest of his emotions into being. From
the void of darkness, the trees and the vines and the singing black-and-yellow
birds materialized as he and Kili came into existence. They were standing side
by side, in the woods as they once had been – young, bodies whole and hale, and
bound only to each other by their conscious wills to be together.
In the distance, through the mist, Fili could see the old, long-undisturbed
barrow where the last remnant of his dead mate’s spirit lay. He summoned up his
courage and took hold of Kili’s hand, and together, they approached the barrow.
Kili tensed with each step, in growing fear as they drew closer to Dwalin.
Trust me, Fili said.
Kili looked at him warily, but eventually he nodded, and when they reached the
edge of the grave, he stayed by Fili’s side.
With the power of his mind, Fili sucked the life from the vines and the leaves
that formed the barrow around his former mate. As the life decayed away and
turned to dust to expose Dwalin’s sleeping form, as he was on the day he had
died, Fili imagined Dwalin as he once had been – good and loyal, devoted to his
king. As he did so, the gaping wounds in Dwalin’s throat and belly and thigh
left by Kili’s blade healed up. His armor seemed to stitch itself seamlessly
back together, and his burn scars from Laketown faded into healthy, natural
skin. Out of the dust left by the destruction of the barrow, Fili imagined into
being Dwalin’s lute, the one he had played in Bag End on the last night of
Fili’s childhood. Fili picked up the lute and, carefully so as not to wake his
dead mate, he pressed the instrument into Dwalin’s big hands. Then he stepped
away and looked at what he had restored.
Like that, Dwalin seemed to be at peace. He was once again the friend who Fili
had trusted, a dwarf with his own life and own need to be loved, just as any
member of their kind. Just as any member of any kind.
I forgive you for hurting me, Fili whispered, so softly that not even Kili
could hear him. But that was all right. The forgiveness of Dwalin was for no
one else but Fili.
As if in response to his words, the forest ground began to tremble beneath
Fili’s feet. A rumbling came from beneath him as stones, pebbles mostly, grew
up out of the soil and tumbled their way over the hills to surround the
sleeping form of his long-dead mate. Before his eyes, the stones worked their
way around Dwalin’s body until he was buried once again, fully out of sight.
Then the stones began to warm, and Fili could sense the increasing heat
radiating off the stones as they grew red-hot and began to melt. The stones
lost their individual shape and melded together into a red, writhing mass that
surrounded the last vestige of Dwalin’s sleeping spirit, unburnt by the molten
stone. Then, the red began to diminish back to grey as the stone solidified
into a rough sarcophagus, binding what was left of Dwalin.
Then all was silent.
You buried him in stone, Kili whispered. When Fili nodded, Kili asked, Why?
Because no one deserves damnation, Fili said. Not even him.
He will go on to the afterlife like this, said Kili.
He already has. But he went as he once was, before Rivendell. Before he hurt
us.
I do not think I would have been so generous, if I had been the one bonded to
him, Kili said. What he did to you warrants damnation. You know that.
Maybe, Fili admitted, But it does the living no good to damn the dead.
He turned away from the empty grave. As he did so, the world of trees and
emotions began to fade around him, disintegrating to reveal the real world
beyond the vision.
Then Fili was back in reality.
The fire had burned down to embers. Outside the music room window, night had
fallen.
Fili glanced down at his brother. Kili had fallen asleep during the meditation,
as he tended to do. Fili easily slipped into Kili’s mind for just a moment,
curious to see if he was dreaming. He smiled as he saw Kili’s happy thoughts.
It was a dream about beer, and lots of it. And that was all.
Fili extracted himself from Kili’s private thoughts and reminded himself to buy
an ale keg in the morning. Then he brushed Kili’s dark hair out of his face,
away off of the burn scar from so many years ago. Finally, Fili leaned down and
kissed the scar and cherished the memory of Kili’s gift to him.
Fili sat back up and he traced a hand over his own scar, the one on the back of
his neck, for the first time in decades. When he touched the raised skin, he
felt nothing in the way of pain, or anger, or bitterness. All he felt was
freedom from that which was long-dead.
The past no longer haunted him.
The future now was his.
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