22Prompt for the Feels for Fíli Art and Fic Mini Contest / #6 Autumn
Runner-up in the Feels for Fíli Art and Fic Mini Contest / #6 Autumn / Fic
This is un-beta'd.
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THROUGH TREES OF GOLD
Marigold Faucet
III
evergreen
for Stephanie
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"It's still magic even if you know how it's done."
—Terry Pratchett, A Hat Full of Sky
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It's the first time he's ever left the mountain.
Fíli's heard stories about Dwarves who leave the mountain and are never seen again, sucked up into the great big sky above. Thorin leaves the mountain a lot, often being away longer than he promises and each passing day Fíli worries that maybe he's been taken by the sky too.
"Don't be silly," Dís assures him, lips pressed in a thin line to keep from laughing. "His ego weighs him down enough to keep him safely on his feet."
He knows he worries too much. He's overheard Thorin discussing it with Dís (and Jóli too, when he is home and not deep in some mine) more than once. He doesn't mean to worry, but it's hard not to when the songs of their people are filled with such sorrow and though he is only young he understands more than people think.
(Too young, Dís whispers, when she thinks Fíli is sleeping. Too young to have such worries, ghivashel.)
It's after Thorin and Dwalin have left, seeking work in the lands toward Bree, that Jóli suggests the trip out of the mountain.
"It's win-win," Jóli says. "Fíli can see there's nothing to be afraid of, while enjoying the company of his favourite parent." he adds with a smirk, drawing Fíli close to him. "And I get to spend the day with my preferred child."
"I get to spend the whole day with Ma?" Fíli asks, eyes lighting up with excitement. He hasn't been able to spend the whole day with Dís since Kíli came along.
"What?" Jóli starts, looking wholly affronted. "No—me!" he pouts. "You're going to spend the day with me!"
"Oh," Fíli blinks and smiles. "Okay."
"Maybe I should take Kíli with me," Jóli huffs, crossing his arms over his chest exactly like Fíli at his most haughty. "Kíli?" he asks, looking around only to find that Kíli is too busy searching for Dwalin and Thorin, shouting Wa or Gump into every conceivable hiding place. "My children have been stolen from me."
Fíli fidgets the entire walk to the gate, anxiety swelling his belly, but Jóli holds tight to his hand talking the whole way, filling the silences with easy chatter when Fíli fails to respond. Every now and then Jóli's fingers tighten a fraction, just when Fíli thinks he might burst and it's enough to ground him though Jóli never once breaks from his tangent to offer any form of verbal comfort.
(And really, that's all the comfort Fíli needs.)
They are out the gate before Fíli realises what is happening, Jóli hoisting him up into his arms and holding him firmly in his arms. Fíli squirms in his hold, trying to escape, but then the sun hits his eyes and for a moment he is blind. He panics, but then the light dims and Fíli finds himself looking up at the sky.
It's so wide and blue and bright, stretching on forever.
"No need for that, mim azaghâl," Jóli soothes, Fíli burying his face into the crook of Jóli's neck. "It's only the sky, nothing to be afraid of."
It takes a moment or two for Fíli to work up enough courage to look up again, feeling slightly dizzy when he does. He's used to walls and high ceilings, not this great vast openness so entirely filled with light, but it is not so terrible as the others say and—and, Fíli thinks, unclenching the fists he had made in the back of Jóli's coat—he does not drift away.
"Okay?" Jóli asks, smiling at Fíli's wonder-filled expression.
"Can I get closer?" Fíli asks, looking back at the sky. He laughs with delight when Jóli lifts him onto his shoulders, stretching his arms as high as he can, almost falling backwards when he leans too far. He wonders if he can touch it, but there is only air.
Jóli starts to walk, the sky seemingly unchanging as they move away from the mountain. There is a storm coming, Jóli says, pointing out the dark clouds sitting on the horizon. And there is a rabbit, he adds, pointing at an oddly shaped cloud overhead. Fíli laughs, thinking it looks more like one of Kíli's unfortunate stuffed toys—horribly disfigured and crippled.
Fíli is abruptly aware when the sky disappears, replaced by the thin canopy blanketing the forest path. It doesn't quite meet his expectations. He's seen plenty of pictures of trees, in books on botany and geography. Fíli likes them for the pictures, fingers tracing each delicately drawn branch and leaf, admiring the intensely inked green that is rarely found in any gem or stone.
These trees and their leaves are not green at all.
"Are the trees sick?" Fíli asks, looking at all the reds and golds and browns. "They aren't green like they're supposed to be."
"They're getting ready for winter," Jóli explains. "Soon all their leaves will be gone."
"Why?" Fíli asks, resting his atop Jóli's as he admires the passing flora.
"Magic," Jóli shrugs, laughing when Fíli almost loses his balance again.
"Is that what stops people from falling into the sky?" Fíli questions, eyes wide as he stares back up flecks of blue peeking through the foliage.
"Of course!" Jóli beams. "What else could it be?"
Fíli asks as many questions as he can think of, tongue tripping over his mind in an attempt to ask them all at once as he tries to discern if all of Middle-Earth's wonders were created with magic. Not all, says Jóli when they reach the river, but that discussion can wait until you're at least one hundred eighty.
The river is as wonderful as the sky and the trees, but too cold to swim in as Fíli's finds when he dunks his whole arm (sleeve and all) into the slow-running water. The river is magic too, Fíli thinks picking up few smooth, round pebbles from the riverbank and tucking them away in his pocket. Kíli would like them, he tells Jóli who only nods and grumbles about bribery and failing to think of it himself.
The sky darkens, dimming like it has been filtered through the mountain, the dark, rolling clouds swirling overhead. Fíli doesn't understand why Jóli insist they head back home, not until the first drop of rain hits his face. He blinks, stunned, rubbing at the cold, wet spot just beneath his right eye. He looks to Jóli, who laughs and reiterates his insistence that they leave.
They're half way through the forest, when the rain begins to fall hard and fast. The canopy is not thick enough to protect them from the worst of it, Jóli carrying Fíli on his back as he tries to make haste through the open expanse between the first and Thorin's Halls.
Fíli is soaked through entirely, eyes wide as he shivers against the wet, clinging cold, sighing in relief when they finally pass through the gate and into the mountain.
"Don't tell your 'amad?" Jóli laughs, exhausted and breathless when they're almost home. "She still hasn't forgiven me for dropping you when you were a baby." he sneezes. "I doubt she'd like you getting a cold, you're insufferable when you're sick."
"I'm not insuf-farble," Fíli mutters angrily, sneezing violently. "You're insuf-farble."
"I'm a joy to all who know me," Jóli sniffs, sneezing again.
"Lovely weather?" Dís asks, greeting them at the door.
"Wonderful," Jóli responds dryly, side stepping her and putting Fíli down in the main hall. Kíli immediately leaps from his spot on the floor, rushing towards Fíli with a delighted expression and completely ignoring Jóli who opens his arms to receive him. It is only through years of practice that Fíli manages to keep his feet when Kíli barrels into him.
"Tell me honestly, amrâlê," Jóli sighs, turning to Dís and pulling her into a hug. "Is it my face?"
"Get off me," Dís laughs, swatting at his nose. "I'll heat you some water for a bath, but only if you stop dripping all over my floor."
Fíli smiles, watching them for a moment before turning his eyes toward the ceiling. It feels different now, having seen the sky, the trees, the river and the rain, but it feels right even if he's sick and miserable for a week.
The world doesn't seem so frightening anymore.
—
Fin.
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Khuzdul:
'amad / mother
ghivashel / treasure of all treasures
mim azaghâl / little warrior
amrâlê / my love