Chapter Text
“Though I will say this. Next time, if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to try this with the full use of my hands, thank you very much.”
Bilbo's words kept creeping to the fore despite Fili's best efforts to remain focused on the discussion at hand as Balin regaled them with tales of Esgaroth before it was known as Lake-town. The object of his current musings was sitting across from him, the leftovers of what had been a warm and palatable meal scattered on the table between them. Bofur and his cousin Bifur flanked the hobbit, cradling their pints of ale and looking to be paying no mind to the storytelling. The two miners were lost in thoughts, Bofur absent-mindedly twirling the ends of his mustache around a finger, his gaze fixed on his drink, while Bifur actually had his eyes closed and seemed to be breathing rather deeply, his body slightly leaning towards Bombur to his left who was busy quaffing his mead and licking his fingers. Unaware of the slumbering dwarf at his side, Bilbo was sitting straight, completely engrossed in Balin's narrative. Fili could not help but smile with warm affection. The little burglar could never resist a good story, nor a chance to learn something new about the world beyond the borders of his precious Shire. Even if it was rather late into the night and their journey down the Forest River and into Long Lake had been anything but smooth. Or warm, for that matter. How he longed for the heat and comfort of an actual bed. And the privacy of a room. His eyes strayed to the hobbit once more, with his flushed cheeks and red-tipped nose. If Ori's count was exact, two full months and a fortnight had passed since their first night in Beorn's Hall.
“I’ll have you know us hobbits, while small, are made of tougher stuff than that.”
The dwarven prince swallowed, his throat having gone dry at the memory. Drinking deep from his tankard, he shifted on the bench, spreading his legs wider to assuage his sudden discomfort.
Dwalin elbowed him then, clearing his throat in quite the obvious manner. Balin, sitting to Fili's left, stopped talking and leaned forward raising a questioning eyebrow in his brother's direction. Bilbo too was now staring at the warrior, his forehead creased with lines of annoyance and his lips pinched together - no doubt holding back a few chastising words intended for the gruff-looking dwarf. After all, it was rude to interrupt.
"Do you disagree with the accuracy of my account?" Balin was frowning despite his tone revealing nothing but patience. Or accustomed tolerance, perhaps.
"He is itching for his axes, more like," Gloin offered from the other end of the table. However, by the disconsolation marking his face, one could easily guess that he mourned the loss of his own prized axe to the darkness of Mirkwood and its pointy-eared inhabitants. In fact, they had all escaped the Elvenking's realm weaponless, as Thorin had truthfully declared to the captain of the guard upon arriving at Lake-town's great bridge. Even Orcrist was lost to his uncle now. Of course, he too missed his array of weaponry: throwing axes, small knives, his two swords and his war hammer. But when all was said and done, better to be free of Thranduil's clutches with nothing but the clothes on their backs and their lives still their own than to spend another day in that dark and empty cell.
Though how the surly dwarf had managed to salvage his abacus, he did not know. Yet there it was, cradled between Gloin's hands as he muttered to himself, sliding the intricately carved beads with stubby fingers - probably tallying up their recent losses.
Dwalin stood abruptly, ignoring his brother's question. "I am off to find Thorin," he all but grumbled before making his way to the tavern door. Balin followed him with his gaze, a worried expression settling on his face. Still, the elder sibling said nothing.
And that left Fili in the company of six. Complaining about his venerable age and stiff joints after their unpleasant barrel adventure, Oin had followed Ori, Dori and Nori to the house that had been offered them by the town Master for the duration of their stay. With promises that food would be brought to them, they were tasked by their leader to ensure that their newly appointed lodgings were both secure and adequate - if not superior to the comforts that an inn could provide - for the weary company. For his part, Thorin had (reluctantly) opted to remain at the feast in the great hall with the Master of the town and his Lake-men. Refusing an invitation to sit at the high table - in the Master's great chair, no less - would have been a slight against the honor bestowed upon him by their host. A wise decision, certainly. Gandalf would have been proud to see Thorin finally revealing some measure of tact.
Sadly, Dwalin's departure had broken the spell woven by Balin's bardic talents and the remaining members of the group appeared to take this as their cue to call it a night. Every one of them was nursing his fair share of aches and bruises. All of them were exhausted beyond imagination. It was indeed time to find some peaceful rest.
Bilbo sneezed just as Bofur nudged his cousin awake. "Bless you," voiced Bombur from behind the hobbit, ready to drag Bifur off the bench should the need arise. In the end, the five remaining dwarves, other than Fili, managed an exit without attracting too much attention from the other patrons. Bofur had surprised their burglar by hugging him with a whispered 'thank you', his gratitude for Bilbo's part in the rescue obvious in his friendly smile and caring eyes. Balin too had expressed his appreciativeness by making his way around the table and laying a hand on the hobbit's shoulder. He had reiterated his indebtedness towards Bilbo with soft words and a damp gaze.
Fili had watched the exchanges with pride swelling in his heart. Truly, their companion was a remarkable fellow and deserved every bit of praise.
"Well, then." Bilbo looked somewhat nervous. Only the two of them remained.
Across the table, Fili was watching him, his regard filled with possibilities. "Ready to turn in as well?" To which Bilbo shook his head. This surprised the young dwarf for he had noticed the symptoms as the hours passed and surely the hobbit knew that sleep was the best remedy to overcome an oncoming cold. He said as much.
"There is something I must do first." Though Bilbo would say no more.
Fili managed to hide his disappointment behind forced curiosity. "Can it not wait until morning?" He did not mean to sound insistent but after his discussion with their scribe earlier, it was paramount that Bilbo remain with him if his plans were to come to fruition.
"Regretfully, no." Yet Bilbo did not sound too regretful. In fact, he sounded agitated. Worried, even.
Fili leaned forward, linking his fingers together atop the wooden surface before him. His tone dropped to a near whisper as he glanced around before asking, "Is everything all right? Is there trouble, little one?"
Bilbo must have realized that he had raised the dwarf's concern with his odd behavior and vague replies because he quickly stammered an apology, staring at his empty cup. Somehow, the hobbit had managed to get the innkeeper to serve him some tea.
Fili trusted Bilbo. He did not dare pry any further. And so he nodded. "Will you meet us back here? Afterwards?" He gestured with his hands, without any definite significance behind the motion. Whatever 'afterwards' meant to his companion.
This got Bilbo's attention. "Here?" He glanced towards the door, through which the rest of the company had left. "I must have misunderstood. I thought there was a house at our disposal. A large house." His brow was knit in confusion as he sniffled a bit.
Fili made a mental note to seek out the market place on the morrow. Their little burglar was in need of a new handkerchief. A proper one, as befitting a respectable hobbit. "You have the right of it," he confirmed with a soft curving of lips. "Only, Kili and I thought it would be best if we took up a room at the inn." Such an announcement earned him a pair of rounded eyes and a marked silence. He hesitated. "If it pleases you, of course."
Bilbo shook himself out of his stupor and actually stuttered, "If it ... y-you ... Kili?" He rotated his finger a few inches above the table, pointing downwards, and repeated the movement a few times more for emphasis. "The th-three of us?" Exhaling sharply, he allowed a genuine smile to shine through. "If it pleases me? Must you ask?"
Fili nodded once, his eyes mirthful.
"Nothing would please me more, Master Fili." His excitement was infectious and the dwarf found that he could not suppress a grin. Reaching forward, he covered Bilbo's hand with his own, letting the pad of his thumb brush over the fork of the hobbit's own thumb and index finger. It was a small thing, really. A simple touch. Yet it sent a distinctive thrill through his forearm and up, until he could feel its tingle along his spine and all the way down to the pit of his stomach. And further still. But there was also a flush of warmth there, nestled somewhere behind the safety of his rib cage. He gave the smaller hand a gentle squeeze. "Off with you then. Be about your business and return to us as swiftly as your errand will allow." And please be careful, he added silently.
Bilbo visibly swallowed, his eyes fixed on their hands. "Right." And then he was gone, leaving the dwarf with a half-filled tankard and no one but his own soft chuckles to keep him company.
* * * * *
The door creaked open with little more than a slight push from his booted foot. And then he paused on the threshold, his breath catching at the sight that greeted him. Crossing his arms over his chest, Fili leaned to the side, shoulder and hip flush with the wooden frame of the doorway, and smiled. Kili was sitting in the middle of the large bed occupying the center of the room with one leg tucked close in front of him while the other, bent at the knee, was sprawled in an angle before him. His brother's head was inclined, his unbound hair curtaining his face in dampness as Kili slowly dragged his fingers through his long dark locks. His leisure pose depicted an arresting tableau of both beauty and virility, as well as a general air of total insouciance. He had opted for a clean pair of cotton braies, bunched up at the waist and tied with a drawstring. This left his chest exposed and the slightly wet curls glistened in the soft firelight. His usual undergarments, as Fili would later notice, had been scrubbed clean and were now spread atop the back of a chair for a night of drying.
"Brother ..." Fili's voice caught in his throat. It had been so very long since he had seen his younger sibling like this. Even before their company had departed on the quest for Erebor. Unduly curious and ever inquiring, Kili was full of unrestrained enthusiasm and was rarely known to be found sitting idly or relaxing. In fact, his general idea of relaxation was to either practice archery or swordplay with any willing participant. He abounded with energy and a constant need for activity. But this rare picture of his brother, as he patiently finger-combed his hair, radiated homeyness. It called to him like nothing else, tugging at his heart strings with an almost painful squeeze.
Kili looked up, somewhat startled. Clearly, he had not heard the sound of the door protesting as it opened. "Fili." His eyes alighted with joy as he offered his brother a beatific smile. Plucking a few wet strands of hair from across his cheek, Kili's gaze searched behind the elder prince for a moment, a slight frown marring his otherwise peaceful mien. "Where is Mister Baggins?" Fili was quick to detect the uncertainty lacing his brother's inquiry. He also knew his brother well enough to recognize the hint of dejection produced by Bilbo's marked absence.
Fili pulled himself straight and stepped into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. "He will join us later," he reassured his sibling.
Kili's frown deepened. "Has something happened?" He was already shifting towards the edge of the bed, ready to dress himself quickly if needed.
Fili instantly mourned his loss as the placid mood that had reigned a moment ago all but vanished. "Be at ease, brother. All is well." Divesting himself of his leather coat, he dropped it on the nearby chest, over Kili's long coat. The gauntlets were next, abandoned on the wooden floor beside his brother's boots. "It would seem that our little burglar had to attend to some urgent, though private, matter."
"Should we worry?"
"About his safety?" Fili shook his head. "I believe he can well handle himself." Especially now that they knew about his magic ring and its power to render him invisible. "Besides, let us not forget that our presence here has generated more excitement and awe than hostility among the citizens. For the time being."
"Aye. For the time being." Kili did not appear quite convinced. In fact, his wary expression reminded Fili of their uncle whenever Thorin's thoughts were burdened by the magnitude of their quest - a journey that would ultimately lead them to their home and a dreaded, yet inevitable, confrontation. It was the same look, branded with grave intensity but also, if perceptive enough, one could detect the tragic acceptance behind those keen eyes. Fili understood Thorin's mind. Better than he let on, for the most part. He knew his uncle to be resolute in regards to the path that he now tread. He also knew Thorin's belief as to what fate had in store for him, at the end of it all. And looking at Kili now, the very image of their exiled king - their beloved uncle -, well, it pained him to see such seriousness on an otherwise carefree dwarf. Did Kili believe that Bilbo wanted nothing more to do with them?
"'Tis a strange thing," he began, working on a belt buckle, "how the resemblance can be uncanny at times." This earned him a puzzled look from his brother. "You look like him," he explained.
"Who?" The younger dwarf was obviously confused but at least he seemed to relax enough to settle into a seated position, his legs dangling over the bedside as he watched Fili intently.
"Our uncle." Who else, he refrained to add with an ironical smile.
"I am nothing like him." A murmured affirmation that bespoke a deep feeling of unworthiness.
Fili sighed and finished undressing in silence while Kili stared at his hands, a disheartened air about him. Once he stood barefooted and in nothing but his underclothes, the elder prince approached his brooding sibling. "Little brother." He sat beside him and pulled him into a hug, his lips ghosting over Kili's right temple as he inhaled deeply, detecting the scent of winter savory and a touch of ... marjoram, was it? "You know you do not have to prove yourself to him. He knows your worth."
Kili's only response was to shrug, yet his body screamed of unease if the twisting and untwisting of fingers in his lap were any indicator.
"How coud you doubt yourself so?" But his query was met with muteness. "Kili ..."
His brother's hands stilled. "We both know who is the one true heir to the Durin line. In his eyes, there is only one worthy of ever succeeding him." And what hurt the most about Kili's words was the fact that he believed every single one of them and felt no resentment towards his elder sibling over the truth of it. His declaration was simple acknowledgement, no more.
"Not in mine." Fili's tone held more harshness than intended. His brother had always looked up to their uncle and while he never dared begrudge Kili's hero-worship of Thorin, he hated how it resulted in belittling his own self-worth. "Kili, look at me," he said with urgency.
The younger dwarf met his gaze and Fili felt blind-sided as he peered into dark pools of open admiration and deep affection, all thoughts slipping away unnoticed. Kili offered him a soft smile that warmed its way to the very marrow of his bones. Extending a hand, it hovered hesitantly over a stubbled cheek as he breathed out, "So beautiful."
Kili shied away from the compliment and swatted the hand aside, shoving lightly at his brother. "You reek of dank cells and soured apples. Take a bath before the water gets too cold."
"And smell of sweet herbs like you?" Fili protested around a hearty chuckle but proceeded to remove every last stitch of clothing from his body nonetheless.
"Bilbo will appreciate it, no doubt. A single whiff of you and he will be reminded of his garden at Bag End."
It was nice to feel the return of a lighter mood and to see Kili talk about Bilbo as if he might believe that the hobbit would join them later, as promised. Stepping into the tub of tepid water, Fili could not help but ask, "Do you think that will make me more savoury?" He ducked into the tub, his lips twitching into a grin, as his brother threw a washcloth at him.
"You are incorrigible!"
TBC ...