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Bilbo notices it for the first time after the river.
One of the ponies had spooked, seemingly at nothing, and bolted for the river. Fili had tried to grab it by the bridle and gotten caught in the reins and dragged into the water. His brother had dived in after him and the two of them were half-drowned and half-frozen by the time Kili managed to cut his brother loose and Thorin and Dwalin had dragged them both to shore.
Afterwards, the Company fishes as much of the supplies out of the water as they can, scattering downstream to fish along the shoreline while Dori and Gloin make sure the pony will survive. Fili and Kili are sitting on a grassy stretch of shoreline, most of their clothes spread out in the sun to dry as quickly as possible. The lads are both shivering and look like disgruntled cats who've just had their first bath. If it wasn't for the rush of adrenaline leaving him a bit shaky, Bilbo would probably think they were hilarious.
Thorin comes over with two thick blankets. He drapes one over Fili's head and briskly rubs at the younger dwarf's hair before bundling the rest of the blanket around his shoulders. Bilbo expects he'll do the same for Kili, but instead Thorin hands the second blanket to Fili and strides away to check on the status of their supplies.
Bilbo doesn't think much of it, really, just that it seems weird. Perhaps Thorin and Fili know each other better? Or perhaps Kili doesn't like being fussed over by strangers? He certainly doesn't mind Fili doing it – Fili is apparently trying to smother Kili with the blanket at the moment and Kili is just exuding an air of resigned tolerance – but family is different, of course. Or perhaps Thorin was called away by something Bilbo didn't notice?
In any event, it's just something he happened to notice.
****
That night they're trading stories around the campfire, ridiculous tales of youthful folly and childish shenanigans that make dwarves seem, well, much like Hobbits, at least insofar as that they both seem to have no common sense during their adolescent years. Balin is in the lead with a devilish story about something involving two human lasses and a goat – Bilbo missed some of the details because he was looking for his pipe weed and he's quite content with that – when Thorin rouses himself to say, “Speaking of goats-”
“Uncle, no,” Kili says, eyes gone wide and round, voice absolutely horrified. He sits up straight and casts a desperate glance at his brother who has suddenly collapsed into a fit of semi-hysterical laughter. “You promised!”
Thorin doesn't actually tell the story but only because Kili all but flings himself across the firepit to silence him, and then there is some concern over whether or not Fili is going to choke before he gets his laughter under control.
Bilbo is a little surprised by the realization that the youngest dwarves are Thorin's nephews, but gives it no real thought, distracted as he is by pounding on Fili's back (Kili is scowling at his brother and threatening to do dire things to his bedding). It's only later as they've settled down and he's about to drift off to sleep, that he remembers the scene by the river.
****
And that would have been the last he thought of it. But there are little things, nothing by themselves, but together they add up to a picture in Bilbo's head.
****
Like the way Dwalin will regularly smack Fili on the head when the lad has been acting up or being foolish but only ever smacks Kili's arm or back.
Or the way Kili is quite comfortable sprawling out by the fire at night with his head in his brother's lap but only until someone sits on Fili's other side. If he is asleep, Bilbo has noticed, Fili will nudge him awake and explain, “Nori wants to sit down” even though Kili is in no way blocking the newcomer from doing so. And Kili will sit up, sometimes only to lean against his brother's shoulder and drift off again, taking up no more or less space than he had been a minute ago.
And the time when Gandalf had reached for one of Bombur's metal pans, still in one of the ponies' saddlebags, leaning over Kili to do so – just a bit, and Gandalf is tall enough that he seems to be always reaching over or around one or another of them – and Kili twists away as if he were afraid Gandalf were about to fall on him. Or hit him with the pan, Bilbo thought. But Gandalf – aside from walking into the chandelier in Bilbo's parlor no fewer than four times in a single night – has shown no sign of such clumsiness.
****
The dwarves are meticulous with their braids. Not fussy – well, Dori is, a little, and Oin a bit as well – but not unreasonably so. They don't avoid hard work or battle because they might get a bit mussed. In fact, as near as Bilbo can tell, the only thing Dwarves enjoy more than hard work and battle is getting a bit mussed. But they are quite particular about keeping their hair and beards clean and neat, and in the evening as they wait for Bombur to prepare the meal, it's not unusual to see them undo their braids or – or whatever Nori has done to his hair, exactly – and meticulously brush out their hair before redoing the same braids and twists with skilled fingers made nimble from long practice.
Sometimes they don't do their own braids. Their first night in Rivendell, after the fight with the orcs on the plains, the company is gathered around the firepit they'd made in their rooms. Bilbo is trying to decide if he should scold them or not, but honestly it's just rude for a host to serve food his guests won't eat, hasn't anyone told Elrond this before? But the furniture they're burning seems like it would be expensive. Possibly Gandalf should be involved?
“Bilbo,” Kili calls, and he tears his attention away from the lovely carved bench that Dwalin and Gloin are hauling in from the balcony. Kili and his brother are sitting chest to back, with Fili leaning back against his brother and smoking his pipe. Kili is carefully undoing the last of Fili's braids. “In the little pocket on the side of my pack, there are several leather thongs. Would you toss me a few?”
It takes just a moment to realize that Kili's pack is resting against the wall just a few feet away, and even less time to find the thin leather strips Kili had asked for. Instead of tossing them, Bilbo carries them over to hand them to the youngest Heir of Durin. Kili is combing his fingers through his brother's hair, Fili's thick gold curls are even thicker now with the braids undone and are softening to waves with each pass of Kili's hand. At Kili's right knee there is a small pile of silver beads and the silver clasp Bilbo has noticed Fili prefers. Kili smiles his thanks as Bilbo presents the thongs and deciding that this is considerably less stressful than whatever Bofur is doing to Lord Elrond's end-tables, lowers himself to the floor beside them.
Kili's fingers are quick and agile and he weaves a half-dozen tight plaits into his brother's hair without missing a step or tugging too hard. He leaves a chunk of hair free, the hair that would be normally held in place with the silver clasp, and instead, once he has finished braiding, and carefully replaced each silver bead, gathers Fili's hair together at the base of his neck and ties it in place with one of the thongs. For sleeping, Bilbo knows. The beads don't seem to bother them, but clasps and pins are usually removed before bed. Kili reaches around and tugs gently on one of his brother's mustache braids and Fili, who seems to have half-drifted off while Kili was working, offers his younger sibling a fond smile. “Thank you,” he says, stretching slightly as he sits up. “I could return the favor, if you like?”
And he's noticed that Kili doesn't wear braids in his hair, so he's a little curious that Fili would offer. But Kili's reaction seems stranger yet, as the younger brother stills for a moment, one hand still resting on his brother's shoulder, looking down at Fili's braids as if they hold some sort of answer for him. Fili does not seem to expect an immediate answer, and stays as he is, leaning back against Kili's chest and content to wait.
“All right,” Kili says, and the moment doesn't take as long as it seems to Bilbo. “If you think you're awake enough to avoid setting my hair aflame with that pipe of yours.”
They switch places – Fili hands his pipe off to Bilbo, who decides it would be a shame for good pipeweed to go to waste and thus is quite happy to finish it off for him – and Kili sits in front of his brother with his legs crossed, hands curled loosely on his thighs, back straight and stiff. He's obviously uncomfortable and Bilbo – Bilbo knows he's missing something, but he isn't sure what. Perhaps nothing more serious than Kili not liking braids? Perhaps Fili is terrible at doing hair? He is tempted to ask, but he holds his silence. Something about the way Kili holds himself makes him think there is a story here he does not know.
Fili takes the clasp from his brother's hair and hooks it onto Kili's collar. His hands are as gentle and as swift as Kili's had been as he combs out his brother's wild, dark hair, gathering it into sections and carefully braiding each one with purposeful movements. Fili makes these braids looser than Kili had made his, and he doesn't bother tying them off at the end – not meant to last, of course, since Kili seemed to prefer his hair loose – which makes Bilbo suspect that there is more to braiding than braids.
The tension bleeds out of Kili quickly until he is resting back on his hands, his legs spread out in front of him. Fili tickles his face with the end of a braid and Kili pulls a face at him, nose scrunched up like a disdainful cat. Fili just chuckles and digs his fingers against Kili's scalp, making his brother groan and all but flop back into his lap.
“He's a giant cat, isn't he?” Bilbo says and Kili cracks one eye to glower at him while Fili tugs at a braid and laughs.
Thorin returns then, with Gandalf and Balin at his heels. The rest of the Company is clamboring for news and the king pauses a minute beside his kinsmen. “Much better,” he proclaims, running a finger over Fili's newest braids and pulling gently at a silver bead. “I had completely failed to recognize the two of you beneath the wild rats' nests that had taken up residence atop your heads.”
Fili rolls his eyes and Kili makes a rude sound and Bilbo cannot believe that Thorin Oakenshield sounds like a Hobbiton mother scolding her children. Thorin lowers himself to sit beside his nephews and grips Kili's knee, giving him a brief shake. “And you. For Durin's sake, Fili, did you have to sedate him?”
“Bribery,” Fili said. “I promised him my share of the treasure of Erebor.”
Thorin does not fuss over Kili's braids, or tug at them, or even draw much attention to them. Kili, for his part, seems to find an excuse to undo the last of them come morning.
****
Ori has taken to knitting hats for each member of the party. They resemble Bofur's to a rather startling degree, and the toymaker is puffed up about it for days. Ori only blushes and insists that it's a coincidence, and anyway, it's bound to be cold and raining at least once on the quest. He's not wrong, so as each hat is finished, the recipient accepts with good grace and genuine thanks. Ori usually gives away who the next recipient is by coming up to them during dinner and plopping a half-finished hat onto their heads to make sure it fits properly. But when he makes Kili's hat, he knits it all in one go before offering it, shyly, to the archer. Kili takes the hat from Ori's outstretched hand and smiles, and if it fits just a hair too big – Ori made it the same size as Fili's they discover – Kili does not seem to mind.
****
In the cave, after the storm giants, they're all exhausted and shaken, chilled to the bone. Bilbo himself is still uneasy, trying to get himself settled after falling from the ledge. He ends up sitting huddled against one wall of the cavern while the others try to get settled as best they can without a fire. Thorin stops for a moment by his nephews, touches his forehead to Fili's briefly, and clasps Kili's shoulder.
Kili doesn't exactly flinch. But for a moment, before Thorin's hand settles on his shoulder, it almost looks like he is going to. Fili and Thorin make nothing of it, as if they had not even noticed, but by now Bilbo knows better. There is little about his brother that Fili misses.
****
It is in Mirkwood, as the Dwarves are being led back to their cells after an audience with the Elven King, when Bilbo understands.
The guards are not cruel, but neither do they take the time to be kind. One of them shoves Fili, who is deemed to be dragging his feet and Kili lunges at his brother's captor only to be dragged backward when his own guard grabs him by the hair. Fili shouts, furious, but Bilbo, lingering behind a column, knows the young prince well enough by now to see panic behind that anger.
And Kili twists and seems to snap, body arching in a desperate attempt to pull away. He turns on his guard, kicking and hitting, all fury and violence and if he had been clear-headed he might have managed to overwhelm the guard, but the sudden panic has reduced him to a desperate animal. He snarls and growls, claws with his bound hands. He can't seem to decide if he wants to attack or get away, and the terrible sounds he's making are worse than anything Bilbo's heard yet.
Bilbo freezes, because he knows there's nothing he can do, should he reveal himself, but he can't stand what he's seeing.
It takes three guards to pin him down, one holding feet and another practically sitting on his chest. The third is holding Kili's bound hands to the ground over his head, and still has one hand wrapped in Kili's hair, trying to hold him still because Kili's teeth are bared as if he means to rip out their throats if only he could reach.
Dimly, Bilbo recognizes Fili's voice, pleading non-stop with his brother the whole time. Two more guards are holding him against the wall on the other side of the hall their arms straining to hold him even as Fili surges toward his brother with each nearly-feral cry. “Kili, please, they will not hurt you, I promise. It is not the same, I won't let them hurt you again, I promise, please listen. You must breathe, just breathe, no one will hurt you here – you bastards, you're making it worse!”
“What is this?” a new elf demands, this one wearing a gold circlet. He's lean and fair, like most of the others, and wears a bow and quiver strapped to his back. “Berial.”
“The prisoner attacked us,” the elf holding his hair reports. “And then he seemed to go mad!”
“Just let him go,” Fili demands, pushing against his guards. “You are making it worse, can't you see he's just trying to get away?”
“Let him go,” the newcomer commands and cuts one of the guards off before he can do more than open his mouth. “He's going to hurt himself trying to get away if you don't. Let him go. Block the hall so he can't get out, but let him go.”
The elves holding Kili down exchange a skeptical glance but do as they are commanded, releasing Kili and jumping back as he surges to his feet. For an instant he stands there, his chest heaving, eyes wild, and Bilbo thinks he might try to fight his way through them and surely be killed.
“Kili,” Fili says and his brother turns to him. “Kili, I swear to you, it will be all right. No one here wants to hurt you. No one is going to hurt you,” he says, aiming a look at the elven lord that promises worse things than murder if he is made a liar.
“Let the other one go,” the elf says, and Fili's guards stand back so he can move to his brother's side.
Kili is shaking as Fili wraps both his bound hands in his brother's tunic, presses their foreheads together. “Fee,” he says and Bilbo burns with embarrassment that this moment of vulnerability must be witnessed.
“It's all right,” Fili says, and then something else, softer, that Bilbo cannot hear. But Kili nods and raises his hands to grip his brother's tunic in return.
The guards close in again and Kili flinches a little, presses closer against his brother's side. But when one takes him by the arm, hesitant, as if Kili will go mad again without warning, Kili drags in a deep breath and goes willingly.
****
“I have a question,” Bilbo says many long days later, when they are in Laketown and may rest for a time, however brief. The others are preparing for dinner and in the commotion no one seems to have noticed that their burglar is not helping. It's as close to privacy as Bilbo expects to get and this is not a question he can ask if he thinks Thorin or Fili or Kili will overhear. “But perhaps it is none of my business.”
Balin hums a little under his breathe as he stitches a tear in one of his tunics. “Well then, perhaps you should ask and I will tell you if your business is best minded elsewhere.”
That seems fair enough but Bilbo hesitates, fussing with a loose thread on one of the buttons of his waistcoat. “It is – I ask not out of some prurient desire for details – no, I would – you understand I would be quite pleased to be told I was misinformed. Only I have noticed a certain thing – a behavior, if you will – and, well. I do not wish to pry but I also do not mean to inadvertently offend or cause any of my fellows discomfort. You understand?”
“Not at all,” Balin said, biting off the thread. “Speak faster, I can smell roast quail.”
“Kili does not like to have his hair touched,” Bilbo blurted out, then clapped a hand over his mouth. “I – well, I have noticed – and that is. Well. It is none of my business,” he said hurriedly, noting the way Balin's brows drew together. “I'm sorry. Please forgive my rudeness, I'll just-”
“You know that Kili and Fili are Thorin's kin?” Balin said suddenly.
“Yes?” Bilbo said hesitantly.
“And you know who their mother is.”
“Thorin's sister. Dis. Yes, I've heard them – they introduce themselves as the sons of Dis.”
“Not by their father's name,” Balin said. “As do the rest of us.”
“Oh,” Bilbo said, and he feels mostly sad. “I had thought maybe it was because she was a member of the royal family so she took precedence.”
“No,” Balin said. He folded his tunic carefully. “It is not your business, I suppose, but neither is it a secret. And if you have noticed the signs, well.” He sighed. “Every race has those amongst their number with whom they are not proud to claim kinship. Dis' husband was one such dwarf. He was... hard. He was too quick to anger, too slow to forgive and he was overfond of his drink.” Balin stood to put the tunic away and hesitated. “We all knew, but many of us were changed after Erebor and Azanulbizar and a dozen other losses. We knew he was not well, but Dis was so good for him. We thought he was going to recover, as some do. None of us ever thought he'd hurt those boys.” Balin didn't look up, but Bilbo felt quite suddenly that Balin was apologizing, to him, to the boys he spoke of, maybe to himself from all those years ago. “It would never have been allowed, you understand. There is- ah, it is done. Excuses help no one now.” He took a deep breath and turned, hands folded over his beard. “Dis died when the boys were young and their father only grew angrier and more distant. And one night Thorin came to my door in the middle of the worst snow we'd seen in years, holding one of the boys in each arm. Fili had a bruise the size and shape of a grown-dwarf's hand on his face, already turning black. And someone had grabbed Kili by the hair so hard they'd literally ripped one of the braids from his head. They flinched from my touch for days and Kili would scream if anyone but his brother tried to touch his hair. He had to be sedated long enough to clean the wound.”
And that explained everything Bilbo had noticed, explained it all away quite tidily. He folded his hands in his lap and stared at his feet. “I'm sorry to – to bring it all up again.”
“It is an old wound. Mostly healed.” Balin's eyes were hooded as he glanced across the room toward the rest of the Company, loudly fighting over who was due a turn at cleaning the dishes that evening. “It would hurt them if they knew you thought differently because of this. Amongst dwarves, the burden is entirely on their father. The children are blameless and raised without shame or guilt or responsibility.”
“As it should be,” Bilbo says, quite firmly, and Balin offers him a tiny nod of acceptance. “I should go get cleaned up. Thank you, for explaining. I only want to make sure I don't open any old wounds.”
“I wouldn't worry about it, Bilbo Baggins,” Balin said. “You are entirely the wrong sort of person to cause anyone grief, I think. Now, you get cleaned up, and I think I shall go and see if I cannot convince the others it is Dwalin's turn to do the dishes.”
After the meal, Dwalin complains loudly and non-stop that Balin has framed him, but the rest of the Company deposit their dishes in front of him and escape outside. It is peaceful and beautiful here, Bilbo thinks he quite likes it, except for the business with the dragon being so nearby. Most of the older dwarves settle down on the grass to smoke and Ori is hunched over his book, writing frantically in the last rays of daylight. Kili shoves a handful of thistles down his brother's shirt and Fili tackles him, grabbing his brother in a headlock and digging his knuckles into Kili's skull while Kili shrieks with laughter and tries to squirm away.