Chapter Text
There was much to do in the aftermath of a battle like the one outside Erebor’s gates, which was why Fíli didn’t understand why Dáin kept harping on about weddings. More specifically, Kíli’s. And he definitely didn’t understand why Dáin kept talking to him about it. If he wanted to plan Kíli’s wedding to Dwalin, wouldn’t it make a lot more sense to talk to either of them about it?
“They should both wear blue I suppose,” Dáin mused. “Since both are from the line of Durin.”
Fíli also didn’t understand why he was still listening to this.
“Dáin,” he begun, only to spot the familiar form of his brother sneaking into the main hall. “Kíli!”
If someone had to listen to Dáin, it wouldn’t be him. At least not alone.
Freezing as if he’d been Nori getting caught in the middle of committing a burglary, Kíli hunched his shoulders and tried his best to blend in with the wall behind him. Since it was made out of grey marble and Kíli wasn’t, it didn’t go all that well. Nori would probably have managed, but Nori worked in mysterious ways.
“Prince Kíli,” Dáin said and crossed his arms. “Please, join us.”
Kíli’s eyes flitted across the room, looking for a way to escape. “I needed to-“
Seeing as Dáin’s attention was well and truly fixed on his brother, Fíli saw his own chance to escape. He hadn’t seen Bofur in over an hour, and he also wanted to see if he could track down Beorn. Had he come here alone or with some of his animals? And if the latter, where were they?
Unfortunately Kíli didn’t want to be the only one subjected to Dáin anymore than Fíli wanted it.
“-to speak to my brother. And to you.”
When Dáin turned to glance at him, Fíli relaxed and looked as if he’d not at all been in the process of legging it. Then, when he caught sight of the look in Kíli’s eyes and the blond braced himself. He knew that look. It was the look of Kíli plotting. It was the look that happened before the two of them coaxed a horse into Thorin’s quarters or before Bilbo got caught by Trolls.
“I need to apologise to you,” Kíli said earnestly and looked at them both in turn. “Especially to you, Dáin. I know that you have been looking forward to planning my wedding, but I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible.”
For a moment Fíli thought that something had happened with Dwalin. Only that couldn’t be true, because not only had Fíli seen Dwalin after all the fighting was over, Kíli wasn’t upset. He tried to look saddened, but if he’d been in possession of a tail, it would have been wagging and not tucked between his legs. He was pleased, with himself most likely.
“And pray tell why that’s not going to be possible,” Dáin demanded with an annoyed huff. “And don’t try and fool me into believing that you’ve stopped courting.”
Kíli froze again, and Fíli just barely avoided covering his eyes with his hands.
Really? That had been Kíli’s plan? It would only have worked for however long it took for his brother and Dwalin to be in the same room together. Had they, or perhaps only Kíli as Fíli doubted that Dwalin was informed, planned on avoiding each other for the rest of Dáin’s stay in Erebor? Or perhaps just avoiding Dáin… That seemed like a better idea, even if it was still a lousy one.
Still, let it never be said that Kíli was bad at thinking on his feet. His rabbit-in-front-of-a-warg expression melted away into grin, and brown eyes sparkled merrily at Dáin.
“Quite the opposite!” Kíli promised and winked at Fíli. “You see, Dwalin and I were together for the entire battle. Fighting side by side, killing Orcs and Wargs and-“
“Get to the point,” Dáin sighed. “My prince,” he added, somewhat belatedly.
“I was getting to the point,” Kíli said, injured. “You see, everyone knows that a bond is formed when you fight side by side with someone, saving each other’s lives over and over. And well, according to tradition, Dwalin and I are now married. We married out on the battlefield. A bond forged-“
“That’s not any tradition I have ever heard of,” Dáin said and narrowed his eyes.
“I never said it was an old tradition,” Kíli defended and took a step backwards. “Someone’s got to start it.”
“There was no marriage contract!” Dáin argued. “It’s not valid.”
“Blood was spilled!” Kíli argued right back. “I’d say that’s better than ink. And we’ve braided each other’s hair!”
“Just because you’ve lived in Ered Luin, with their traditions-“
“It’s a good tradition!”
As silently as he could, Fíli slipped away and left them to it.
He wanted to find Bofur, and Beorn, and if he couldn’t find either of them there was plenty of things for him to occupy his time with. Thorin was not supposed to leave the tent that Óin had declared the ‘Roayl Tent of Healing’, even if he still did leave it from time to time, but as soon as Óin, or Bilbo, caught him at it they made him go right back.
Bilbo didn’t even need to try very hard as Thorin was definitely inclined to do whatever their Hobbit asked of him for the foreseeable future. Except getting enough bed rest, because Thorin had always been hopeless about allowing himself any privilege he would have demanded that another must take. He had a kingdom to rule, finally, and such a small thing as almost dying couldn’t stand in the way of making sure that his people was well cared for.
Luckily he had a Hobbit to make sure that he was well cared for. And who was prepared to yell at him to sit down the moment he started to look pale.
Bilbo had done an unusual amount of yelling since waking up, but no one blamed him really. Óin even appreciated it since it allowed him to hear what Bilbo had to say without needing to use his hearing trumpet. And he never yelled for very long anyway since Thorin refused to yell back, he only looked at Bilbo with sad blue eyes and nodded, and that seemed to drain Bilbo’s ire even faster than being offered a handkerchief. Or a raspberry pie.
Then kissing usually happened and that Fíli preferred not to think about.
He assumed that eventually Bilbo was going to go back to the Shire, not to stay, but he would probably want to sort out the parts of his life that he’d left that morning when he’d come running after them.
It would probably be best if Thorin accompanied him. The alternative would not be pleasing to anyone in Erebor. But that was a problem for another time. Bilbo hadn’t gone unscathed from the battle either and from time to time he got bad headaches and spells of dizziness, and would not be travelling anywhere until Óin had declared him fit for it.
If the decision had been left to Thorin, Bilbo would never be declared well enough. Except maybe not. Thorin, surprise, hated that Bilbo had been hurt. Hated it and blamed himself. But to be fair, they all did. Bilbo was not meant for battle.
If their Hobbit had heard him thinking something like that he would likely have assumed that Fíli considered him too poor of a fighter, and true, Bilbo was not a trained warrior. He’d never even touched a blade bigger than a butter knife before finding that Elven one. But he also never should have been put in that kind of situation. Hobbits were meant for untroubled lives, a life of green and plenty (and plenty of greens to Ori’s distaste), Hobbits were not like Dwarfs.
But then again, Bilbo was not exactly like other Hobbits. And Fíli was happy beyond all that words could express that Bilbo had agreed to join them. He had saved them again and again, and helped them. And without him Thorin would most likely be dead. They all would be, long before they got to the battle.
Their kind was not very good with apologies, that Fíli could admit. But they were great with grand gestures. Those who, before the battle, had doubted Bilbo’s worth, and his place in Thorin’s life, was now singing his praises as loudly as any of the members of Thorin’s Company. To the misfortune of Kíli. With Bilbo's popularity being what it was no one would try and make him have a big and complicated wedding if he didn't want one. Probably not even Dáin. Which again left Kíli's wedding to Dwalin as the only contender for a 'proper' royal wedding.
Fíli wished his brother all the luck in the world, he really did.
Walking out of Erebor Fíli bumped into Bombur, literally.
“Hello there, brother-in-law!” Bombur greeted him cheerfully and steadied him before he could topple to the ground. “If you’re looking for Bofur he’s with Beorn and Balin.”
“Balin? Don’t tell me Beorn brought the rabbits along.”
“Nah,” Bombur snorted. “He came alone. But Balin wants to know how they’re doing. Just sorting out all the new-borns will keep them busy a while. Bofur’s trying to get a word in edgewise about the ponies. Now-” Bombur patted him on the back. “If you will excuse me. I’m in need of finding a new set of clothes or I’ll be late.”
“Late for what?” Fíli asked.
“I met this lovely woman from Lake-town,” Bombur grinned. “She’s such a plump and pleasing thing. And she’s making me dinner. And her being taller is a marvellous advantage because it puts her chest just-”
“From Lake-town?” Fíli asked. "Not one of the ladies who arrived with Dáin?"
Bombur sniffed. “Don’t sound so shocked. Your uncle is as good as married to a Hobbit. Besides, it’s just for some fun. And good relations with our neighbours. She was most impressed with the stories I could tell of our quest.”
“But, the river?” Fíli blinked. “You don’t even remember most of it.”
“Details!” Bombur called over his shoulder as he walked away. “And I’ve read Ori’s notes! So I’m a well-read war hero even!”
Fíli stared after him, and then he chuckled. It was rather comforting to know that some things never changed.
But now he had a husband to find, and a Man to question about their friends, and probably a Balin to comfort as he was undoubtedly getting maudlin at the thought of missing so many bunny babies being born.
Not to mention he should probably stop on the way and make sure no one was picking fights with the Elves and that the supplies in the healing tents were still plenty. And that Thorin hadn’t escaped.
There were plenty of busy days ahead, for them all, but Fíli had never been happier. They had come so far, accomplished the impossible, and regardless of the future would bring, they would-
"I don't want a wedding. I swear I'm already married. Fíliiiiiii!"
Fíli hurried his steps. Okay, they could defeat all foes, climb all obstacles, except perhaps for Dáin and his love of grand ceremonies. But Fíli had survived one, and so would Kíli.
The future was still bright.