42A/N: Thanks to marigoldfaucet on tumblr for this prompt! I was writing Illusions when she responded to my offer of "Give me a fanfic prompt and I will give you 300 words or less" with "Oh, sweet carp! Hmm. Fili and Kili and the sentence 'I hate you'." Of course, I couldn't resist. Here's the result.
There was one time, and only one time, when Fíli ever said to Kíli, "I hate you."
It was a meaningless outburst, really—Fíli didn't mean it. He was young, and he was angry. Kíli had been following him around all day, but he was a big kid now. He was ten years old. He didn't have time for a baby like Kíli. But Kíli had believed him.
Then he had disappeared.
It had been hours, and no one could find the little dark-headed prince. Fíli had searched everywhere he could think—the stables, under chairs and tables, under the bed, even in the fireplaces. But Kíli was missing, and only Fíli knew why.
"Why would he run away?" Thorin had said. He and Dís had sat Fíli down in a chair and asked him all the questions they could think of, but Fíli could not tell them the truth.
"I don't know," he had said over and over, looking down at his feet, his little boots touching at the toes.
"Well, let's keep looking," said Thorin, dragging him out the door.
The two of them searched together, calling Kíli's name and scouring every nook and cranny. The further they got from the house, the more despair filled Fíli's heart. Why had he told his little brother that he hated him? How could he be so cruel? Now Kíli could be gone forever, and it would be his fault. He would be solely to blame, and he would never, ever forgive himself.
"Do you have any hiding places, Fíli?" Thorin said. He stopped moving and knelt before his eldest nephew. Fíli avoided his gaze.
"There's one place, but it's a secret," he said, shuffling his foot in the grass.
"Take me there, Fíli," said Thorin. "We don't have time for secrets."
Fíli knew his uncle was right. He held out his hand, and Thorin took it; together, they made their way to Fíli and Kíli's secret hideout in the woods. He cringed, knowing how upset Thorin would be when he saw how far it was from home, but if Kíli was there, he had to risk it. His uncle remained silent, however, allowing Fíli to pull him along wordlessly. Finally they reached the small wooded area, and Fíli stopped.
"Where is it?" Thorin said.
"In here," Fíli said sheepishly. Thorin looked at him with a critical eye, and he looked down at the ground. He wondered how much trouble he was in.
"Kíli!" Thorin shouted, plunging into the trees and pulling Fíli along with him. Chagrined, Fíli followed, calling his little brother's name in his high, clear voice.
After a while of searching with no response, tears filled Fíli's eyes. Where was his brother? Where was his Kíli? He was responsible for this. He had driven his brother away, and now he would never see him again.
"Kíli, I'm sorry!" he screamed into the empty trees. "I'm sorry—I didn't mean it—come back!"
Suddenly, a small sound directly above Fíli's head caught his attention. He looked up quickly, searching for its source; then he heard it again—a tiny sniffle coming from the trees.
"Kíli?" he called hopefully, searching for the mop of dark hair and the dark blue tunic his brother had been wearing. Thorin searched the trees, too, his eyes wide.
Suddenly Kíli appeared, high up in the tree Fíli stood beneath—impossibly high. He was carefully stepping down from branch to branch, but even from far below, Fíli could see the fearful look on his face.
"Uncle, he's there!" he cried, pointing up. Thorin spotted his youngest nephew, and a small, startled sound came from his throat; he positioned himself right below where Kíli was hanging from a branch.
"Kíli, be careful!" he called. "Come down slowly."
Kíli sniffled again and set his little feet on another branch. He let go of his support with one arm and wiped his nose on his sleeve; then, suddenly, he lost his footing on the thin branch and screamed. Thorin held out his arms, but Kíli still held onto the branch with one hand.
"I'll catch you, Kee!" Thorin called. "It's all right. Try to climb down—but I'll catch you if you fall."
Kíli, always the climber, somehow managed to get himself back onto a secure footing; he climbed down several more branches until he reached a spot low enough for Thorin to snatch him out of the tree. His uncle held him tightly, but Kíli wiggled in his grasp.
"Fee," he whimpered.
Thorin put down his dark-haired nephew, and Fíli immediately opened his arms; Kíli ran to him, crashing into his chest and knocking the both of them over into a heap.
"I'm sorry, Kíli, I'm so sorry," Fíli sobbed. "I don't hate you—I don't. I love you for ever and ever. Okay?"
Kíli nodded and made some kind of noise of agreement, though Fíli could not understand his words when his face was shoved into his chest. He held his little brother tightly and pressed his nose into the dark hair full of twigs and leaves and breathed in the smell of his beautiful baby brother.
Then he promised himself that he would never, ever be mean to his little brother ever again.