198A/N: Greetings! So, uh, I said I wasn't going to post this until I finished it, but I'm being so slow at writing and I thought maybe seeing some of your enthusiasm would motivate me. So here's chapter 1. Carry on.
Snow swirled around Fíli's feet as he looked down and across the frozen water. Three distraught faces looked back at him. Bilbo. Dwalin. Thorin. This was a trap. They had to leave. They could not stay, not even for him. He opened his mouth to cry out. Go. No words came forth. Run. He could not speak. Laughter came from behind him, and then the sudden sharpness of a long, cold blade—
Fíli awoke with a start.
Immediately he took a deep breath, staring up into the darkness. His heart pounded and his hands shook. He needed to speak. He started counting off on his fingers as he whispered to himself.
One. "Azog is dead." Two. "He cannot hurt me." Three. "I survived." Four. "I am safe." Five. "My family is safe."
His heart still pounded. He counted again, this time a little louder.
"Azog is dead. He cannot hurt me. I survived. I am safe. My family is safe."
His breathing was easier now, and his pulse was slowing. He counted off a few more times, putting all his energy into believing those words. They were all safe. He was all right. Eighteen years. It had been eighteen years since the battle, and he was fine. He had made it through. His life was better now—good, even. He was happy.
And yet he was still having these dreams.
Fíli pressed his palms over his eyes and moaned. He wished they would go away, let him be. Wasn't it ever enough? Yes, these dreams occurred less often now—it had been at least a month since the last time—but even once was too often for him. He wanted to be free. He wondered if he ever would be.
Well, he wasn't going back to sleep tonight. With a sigh, he pulled off his covers and sat up, pushing his hands into his mattress. He wondered what time it was; surely too early to wake anyone. He had been told to find someone to keep him company, even if he didn't want it—but it would be inappropriate to ask the one he truly wanted with him right now. Kíli might not mind, but he hovered like a mother hen for the rest of the day afterwards, and today was not a day in which he wanted his brother worrying over him. No, he would sit alone for now. He would be fine. After all, it had been eighteen years.
Fíli started counting on his fingers again.
"Fíli?"
Kíli knocked on his brother's door again, frowning. Fíli had not come to breakfast, and when Fíli wasn't at breakfast… One day, Fíli would stop secluding himself after each flashback. Somehow, he had yet to learn that it was not the best way to deal with things. Dwarven stubbornness, he supposed.
"Fíli, it's me. Are you awake?"
"Yes," came Fíli's voice from the other side of the door. "Come in."
Kíli opened the door and let himself in, closing it behind him. Fíli sat at his desk, his chin resting on folded arms, staring at the wall. Kíli twisted his lips and sighed.
"How long has it been?" he asked.
Fíli shrugged. "Hours."
"How many hours, Fíli?"
"Five or six, maybe," Fíli mumbled, keeping his gaze forward. Kíli rolled his eyes.
"Blimey, Fíli," he said, crossing the room. He leaned over to look at his brother's face, and Fíli's shadowed eyes flicked over to him momentarily before returning to the wall.
"When are you going to learn that you can come get me anytime?" Kíli said softly. "Day or night. I don't care."
"I'm not going to run to my little brother every time I have a bad dream," muttered Fíli.
"So you'd rather keep yourself secluded and wallow in misery? Fíli…"
Fíli furrowed his brow and let out a strained sigh, pressing his forehead into his arms. Kíli put a hand on his shoulder.
"Did you do your counting?"
"Yes, mother."
"In the right order?"
"It's not the right order," Fíli replied, casting a gloomy look at Kíli.
"You've got to put yourself first sometimes, Fee, and this is one of those times," said Kíli, undaunted.
Fíli sighed and dropped his face back into his arms. "Whatever you say."
Kíli tightened his grip on his brother's shoulder. "You know there's no getting out of today," he said. "You're Crown Prince. You have to be there."
"I know, I know," Fíli said to his desk. He turned his head and peered up at Kíli with one eye. "But the dinner isn't until this evening."
"Aye, but there are still things to do before then," Kíli answered. "People to greet…"
"I know," Fíli grumbled.
"You're not going to feel any better by secluding yourself," Kíli continued. "Come on. Let's get out of your room. Maybe we can find Flán… or Gimli… or Nála…"
"I'd rather stay here," said Fíli, turning his face back into his arms again.
"You're going to see a lot of people today, and you might as well start with some that you like," Kíli replied. "Or—a compromise. We leave your room, but I'll keep Uncle from bothering you until this afternoon."
Fíli finally lifted his head and looked up at Kíli properly.
"How do you think you're going to manage that?" he asked.
"I'll figure something out," Kíli said lightly, hopping up and sitting on Fíli's desk. "Tell him there's Elves somewhere they shouldn't be or something."
"That wouldn't work for long."
"There are going to be plenty of distractions today, Fíli. I can manage."
Someone knocked on the door, and Fíli and Kíli both looked to it with furrowed brows. Kíli strode over to the door and opened it; two young Dwarves, both with dark hair and dark eyes, stood with baskets in their arms.
"Hello, boys," Kíli said. "What's this?"
"Gifts from visitors," said Falur, the elder of the two. "Fannar's got a basket for you, but you weren't in your room, and we thought you might be here."
"A good guess," Kíli muttered.
"A gift from who?" Fíli called from his place at his desk.
"Gondor, I believe," Fannar replied. "Or… was it Rohan? One of the southern kingdoms of Men, anyway."
"Well, we will have to find out who to thank later," said Kíli. "You can bring them in."
Falur and Fannar carried the baskets in and set them on Fíli's table. Kíli dismissed them and then made his way to the baskets. One had his name on it, and the other had Fíli's. Kíli began to laugh.
"Fíli, come here," he said, waving his brother over. "You'll never believe this. Look what is in your basket."
Fíli was curious enough to come over and look, and instantly he wrinkled his nose in distaste. Kíli laughed even harder.
"Apple liqueur?" Fíli said. "Of all the fruits, they picked apples…"
"Well, they tried," Kíli said, searching through his own basket. He had some nice Southern sweets in his basket: salt water taffy, rosewater lokum, a jar of honey. Fíli let out a delighted squeak when he found chocolate in his own basket. Kíli pulled out a jar of olive oil and looked at it in the low light.
"I bet Mum would love this," he said.
"She probably got some in hers," Fíli replied, lifting up a bottle of red wine.
"Here, I'll give you the honey for your liqueur," Kíli offered. "Trade?"
"Deal," Fíli replied, grinning. Kíli smiled and passed it over, and Fíli handed him the apple liqueur. Kíli threw the lokum in his basket as well, and Fíli looked at him questioningly.
"Too sweet," Kíli said.
Fíli shook his head and chuckled. "I don't know how you can't enjoy sugar," he said. "It's so…"
"Sugary?" Kíli finished. "I enjoy sweet things. You enjoy too sweet things."
"There's no such thing as too sweet," Fíli said defensively, peering into Kíli's basket for any more sweets.
"Hey, here's something!" Kíli crowed, lifting a stick of salami out of his basket. "Meat!"
"I'd better have some of that in mine, too," said Fíli, searching. He pulled out a stick of his own and smiled. "Excellent."
"These must be from Gondor," Kíli said, looking through the rest of his gifts. Spices, tea, coffee, another bottle of wine. "Don't you think?"
"Aye," Fíli agreed, already chewing on a chocolate. "Good on them for giving us such nice gifts."
"I'm sure the others have gifts as well," Kíli replied, putting everything back in his basket. "I wonder if Thranduil will bring any of his wine…"
"I doubt it," said Fíli. "He wouldn't want us to get our Dwarvish fingers on it."
"True," Kíli said. "Now, come on—this will be here later. Let's have lunch."
Fíli looked at the sweets in his basket longingly, but he nodded. He followed Kíli to the kitchen, where a Man with a dark complexion stood cooking alongside their own cook. He turned and smiled down at the two princes as they entered.
"Hello! You must be Prince Fíli," he said, bowing low. "My name is Hallas. I met your brother this morning at breakfast. I had hoped you would come try some Gondorian delicacies before the dinner tonight."
Fíli nodded politely. "Well, I am certainly willing to try them now," he said.
"Where did Gárwine go?" Kíli inquired, looking about.
"The Man from Rohan?" said Hallas. "I believe he went looking for a Rohirric spice for the food. Can't remember the name of it."
"Make that two Gondorian lunches, Hallas," said Kíli cheerfully. "Unless Gárwine comes back soon…"
"I heard my name," a voice called from the doorway. Fíli and Kíli turned to look as a pale, blond Man bustled into the room with a bag full of clinking things. "I'm here. I just had to find my things."
"Gárwine, may I introduce my brother Fíli, Crown Prince of Erebor," said Kíli, suppressing a chuckle at the Man's hurrying.
Gárwine dropped his bag on the counter and turned to bow low to Fíli.
"A pleasure, Your Royal Highness," he said reverently. When he rose, his pale eyes widened, and then his face broke into a pleased grin. "You look like you could be one of our own."
"A bit short for it, I think," Fíli replied.
"Ah, but your hair!" Gárwine protested. "The same shade as King Thengel. It looks just as kingly on you."
"Well, thank you for your compliments," Fíli said graciously. "Perhaps I shall have a Rohirric lunch today." He turned and winked at Kíli.
"Ah, you wound me, Prince Fíli," said Hallas, but there was a smile on his face. "I suppose you will have to wait for dinner to try our delicious southern food."
"I look forward to trying all the different foods that will be at dinner tonight," said Fíli. "I am sure there will be plenty to appreciate. Now, Hallas, Gárwine, if you will excuse us, we will be in the dining room awaiting our lunches." He nodded and stepped out, and after a nod and an apologetic smile, Kíli followed.
"I wish you wouldn't do that," Fíli whispered as soon as they were out of earshot.
"Do what?" Kíli asked. "Don't you want lunch?"
"We could have just gone in and asked for food and left," said Fíli. "You didn't have to formally introduce me so I had to make conversation. They're just cooks."
"You need to talk to people, brother," Kíli protested. "You can't just—"
"Be left alone?" Fíli interrupted. "Have some time to relax? Kíli, I am not like you. You should know this by now. I cannot just laugh off the day's troubles and begin anew. I need some time to… to come back to myself."
They reached the dining room, where a few visitors to their home sat at one end of the table—a couple Rohirrim, judging by their bright blond hair, and a darker-haired Man as well. They appeared to be deep in conversation. Fíli and Kíli sat at the far end of the table, and Fíli angled his chair away from the Men and dropped his head into his hands.
"We don't have time for you to do that today," Kíli said. "There are people from everywhere here for these talks. Men, Elves, Dwarves… Gondor, Rohan, Dale, the Iron Hills… even the Woodland Realm…"
"I know," Fíli ground out, his head lowering even further.
"You have to be able to talk to them."
"Mahal, Kíli, you're not helping!" Fíli shouted, lifting his head and glaring at his brother. Kíli glanced at the Men at the other end of the table, who all quickly averted their gazes. He looked back to Fíli.
"Sorry," he mumbled.
Fíli merely sighed and bowed his head again, and they sat in silence for a few minutes. Gárwine appeared with the food and laid it down in front of Fíli and Kíli.
"A Rohirric lunch for Prince Fíli, and a Gondorian lunch for Prince Kíli," he said cheerfully. "I hope you enjoy."
"Thank you, Gárwine," Kíli said, smiling up at the Man. Fíli kept his gaze down. Gárwine looked between the two Dwarves and cocked his head to one side, but he said nothing more; he simply bowed and left. Kíli looked back to Fíli and gently nudged him.
"He's just a cook, Kíli," Fíli said quietly. "I don't have to address him."
"That doesn't sound much like you," Kíli replied.
"Well, I'm the one who said it," Fíli grumbled, pulling his plate of food closer. He dug in without another word, and Kíli took it as a signal that he was to stop trying to make conversation at least until they were done eating. The dark-haired Man at the other end of the table kept looking at them. Kíli could feel his gaze, and he caught him staring several times. Fíli, however, noticed nothing; his attention was fixed on the food in front of him, and the moment he finished, he rose to leave.
"Wait, Fíli," Kíli called, rising from his own seat and taking hold of Fíli's arm. Immediately Fíli ripped himself away from his brother's grip.
"Kíli, stop!" Fíli shouted. "Leave me alone! Mahal's beard, I've had enough of your hovering today!"
Kíli stood stock still, staring at his brother, holding his arm against his chest as if he had been burned. His gaze flickered from Fíli to the Men, who were very pointedly not looking at the princes now. He looked back to Fíli. His brother's chest was heaving, his eyes shining.
"I'm just trying to help," Kíli said, hating that his voice quivered slightly.
"I don't want your help!" Fíli spat. "I just wanted to be alone, just until this evening, and you make me come out here—you make me talk to people—you should know by now that I don't want this! And yet you always do it! I am not you, so stop acting like I am! Leave me alone!"
Anger welled up in Kíli's gut. He knew Fíli was not him, that Fíli needed different things, but he also knew that Fíli's habit of locking himself away was not healthy. Why couldn't his brother see that?
"Why are you always like this?" he shouted back. "You can't just sit in your room and wallow every time you're feeling—"
"Shut up! Just shut up, Kíli!" Fíli interrupted, taking a step back and glancing warily at the Men still in the room. "It isn't anybody's business what I'm feeling but my own!"
"That isn't true and you know it," Kíli argued.
"I just want to be left alone," said Fíli, pressing his hands together beseechingly. "Just for a few hours. Just leave me be. Are you at least capable of that?"
"Fíli—"
"It isn't your duty to babysit me, brother."
"But Fíli—"
"For once in your life, Kíli, shut up and listen to what someone else wants for a change!" Fíli cried, throwing his hands in the air.
Kíli flinched. A moment later, anger boiled inside him again, and he set his jaw against his brother.
"Fine," he said coldly. "Be by yourself, then. I can leave you alone. I'll leave right now. Good luck being alone."
"Good," Fíli said, his tone matching Kíli's. "Then go."
Kíli hesitated for a moment, but when Fíli shooed him like a wayward child, he did not wait any longer. He stalked off. If he wanted to be like that, then fine. He had only been trying to help, and if this was the thanks he got—in front of Men!—he would leave his brother to his misery.
Fíli was not ready. He was not sure he would be ready for this. Not today.
For what felt like the hundredth time, Fíli swallowed. His stomach churned; he felt sick and uncomfortable. Nerves, he told himself. There was no reason to be nervous, but he could not deny what he was feeling. It was that dream, that damned dream, that had done him in for the day.
And then Kíli had not made it any better with his hovering. After some solitude and some calming tea, Fíli could acknowledge that his brother was right, that he needed to talk to people and get ready for the day, but he had not wanted any of it. He just wanted to lie in bed and forget everything for a while, but that was not going to happen.
Knock, knock.
Fíli looked up to the door and sighed. That would be Kíli.
"Come in," he called. He peered into the mirror, making sure his crown was properly situated on his head and that his braids were not caught in it. Kíli appeared behind him in his reflection, smiling.
"You look just fine, Dori," he said.
"Oi!" Fíli protested. "I'm not that fussy."
"If you say so," Kíli said casually. He laid his hands on Fíli's shoulders and pressed down. "You ready?"
Fíli met Kíli's eyes in the mirror and frowned. Kíli's grin disappeared.
"I'm sorry about earlier," he said. "I didn't mean to be… overbearing. I just wanted to help."
"I know," Fíli said. He shook his head and offered his brother a wan smile. "It's fine. Don't worry about it."
"All right," Kíli said, smiling again. "Let's do this, then."
Fíli's stomach turned again, and he pressed his palm against it and looked up at Kíli's reflection beseechingly.
"What if I just said I wasn't feeling well?" he said. "Then I wouldn't have to go…"
"I'm pretty sure you'd have to be dying, Fee," Kíli said. "And Mum would check."
"I suppose you're right," Fíli grumbled. He adjusted his sleeves and swallowed again. This was his duty. He was the heir to the throne. He could not skip out on a dinner like this—especially since it concerned the future of Erebor and all the kingdoms of Middle-Earth. Things discussed tonight would carry well over into his own reign. It would be irresponsible not to go, and his uncle would certainly not be pleased in the slightest.
"Well, come on, then," Kíli said, squeezing his brother's shoulders lightly. "Might as well get started."
Fíli nodded and rose, and his stomach lurched again. He grimaced and took a steadying breath. Just nerves. He could do this. He followed Kíli to the great hall, far from their own quarters towards the entrance to the mountain. They walked in silence, and as they went, the churning in Fíli's stomach grew worse and worse, but he ignored it—if he ignored it, maybe it would go away.
They could hear the hubbub from the great hall before they reached it—the mingled voices of Dwarves, Men, and Elves, all together in one place. As Fíli and Kíli entered the room, Fíli suddenly felt small. Men and Elves towered above them, even over Kíli, who was quite tall for a Dwarf. The first to approach them was King Thranduil; he looked down at them coolly and dipped his head, and Fíli and Kíli did the same.
"Welcome to Erebor, King Thranduil," Fíli said cordially, knowing his part. "I hope everything so far has been to your liking."
"The halls are impressive, as always," Thranduil replied, his voice even and lofty. "The wine I have found… lacking."
Fíli took a deep breath and swallowed down the bad taste in his mouth, fighting the urge to adjust his sleeves again. He smiled tightly.
"We thank you for your compliments on the state of the mountain," he said, "but we can only do so much to compare with the fabled Dorwinion wine of your realm. I hope the food at least is satisfactory at dinner."
"So do I," said Thranduil.
"It is good to see you taking an interest in the fate of Middle-Earth, my lord," Kíli said. Thranduil's eyes widened, and Fíli pinched Kíli's arm to wipe the stupid smile off his brother's face. He nodded hastily to Thranduil.
"Excuse us, my lord—there are many others to greet here tonight," he said, dragging Kíli away.
"What?" Kíli whispered as they left Thranduil steaming behind them. "At least I didn't say 'for once.'"
"You may as well have," Fíli hissed. "He knew exactly what you meant."
"I was counting on it," said Kíli, his voice wavering with suppressed laughter.
Fíli sighed and rolled his eyes. He stopped and faced his brother, who was grinning in a very undignified fashion.
"Need I remind you that what we are doing here tonight is very important?" said Fíli. "If it is true that the Dark Lord has returned, we will need every kingdom working together to make sure he does not prevail. This is our part. Thranduil is easy to offend. We cannot afford to not have his army on our side."
"As if he would side with Sauron," Kíli retorted. "Honestly, Fíli, he may not work with us, but he would fight against the Dark Lord…"
"If you recall, brother, he almost didn't last time," Fíli snapped. "Unless you have forgotten the battle we fought eighteen years ago. Now behave."
Kíli sobered finally and nodded.
"Sorry," he said. His gaze moved behind and above Fíli, who turned to see two Men approaching, one tall and dark-haired with quick, sharp eyes and the other shorter and older, his own dark hair streaked with grey. Fíli quickly adjusted his stance, making sure he looked friendly.
"Welcome to Erebor," he said, nodding. "I do not believe we have had the pleasure of meeting."
"Indeed, we have not," said the younger of the two, smiling. He bowed his head, as did the elder. "I am Denethor, son of Ecthelion of Gondor, and this is Beren, also of Gondor."
"A noble name," Kíli said to Beren.
Beren smiled. "Too noble for the likes of me, I guarantee you," he said.
"Ecthelion the Steward?" Fíli said, addressing Denethor. "You're the son of the Steward of Gondor, then?"
"I am," Denethor replied, looking pleased. "I am here as his representative."
"I am pleased to make your acquaintance," Fíli said. "It is regrettable that your father could not come, but I am glad that he sent you in his stead."
"Tell me, Denethor, is it true that you have seen fire from beyond the Mountains of Shadow in Minas Tirith?" asked Kíli.
Denethor's smile faded, and he nodded seriously. "It is true. I have seen the flames myself. My father is very troubled."
"It was his idea to call this meeting in the first place, after all," Beren added. "And Erebor was naturally an excellent place to hold such a meeting, what with it being so far north, well away from Mordor."
"I remember getting word," Fíli said. "Well, I saw the letter to my uncle. We are glad to be of any assistance. Speaking of my uncle, have either of you seen him?"
"I believe he was over there speaking to some of the Rohirrim," Beren said, gesturing towards the table of refreshments. Fíli swallowed as he looked that way; it was the two blond Men and their dark-haired companion from lunch who had so pointedly not looked at him when he shouted at his brother. They would remember him and his outburst, and it was certainly not a good first impression. Well, he still needed to talk to Thorin, and it would seem cowardly if he avoided them for the rest of the time they were here. He had to greet them formally at some point.
"Please excuse me, my lord Denethor, Beren," he said, nodding politely and leaving the Men and Kíli. As he made his way towards his uncle and the Rohirrim, the dark-haired one parted from his friends and headed Fíli's way; tall as he was, he seemed not to notice Fíli until he was nearly on top of him and bumped right into him. Fíli stumbled, and the Man took hold of him suddenly.
"Pardon me, my lord," he said, his grey eyes settling on Fíli filled with remorse. "I did not mean to offend."
Fíli smiled kindly, wondering where the Man was from—he sounded like one of the Rangers from back home near Ered Luin, but it was quite far for one of their kind to come. "It was an accident, er…"
"Thorongil," the Man offered. "I am in the service of King Thengel."
"It was an accident, Thorongil," said Fíli. "It's fine."
Thorongil smiled and nodded respectfully. "Well then, if you will excuse me, my lord…"
Fíli stepped out of the way, and Thorongil breezed by, seemingly in a hurry to wherever he was off to next. Chuckling, Fíli shook his head and approached Thorin and the two blond Rohirrim. When the Men saw him coming, they bowed respectfully and took their leave, looking mildly uncomfortable. Fíli blushed.
"Hello, Fíli," said Thorin, smiling affectionately as his nephew joined him. He smiled much more these days. "How are you?"
"Honestly, I have been better," Fíli admitted quietly.
Thorin's cerulean eyes softened. "Bad night?"
Fíli nodded. "And my stomach feels awful…"
Thorin took hold of Fíli's shoulder and squeezed. "You will be fine, lad," he said. "We have met with such people before, and you have done well. There is no need to be nervous."
"Aye, I know," Fíli said, peering out at the crowd. Besides Thranduil and his delegation, there were no other Elves, the only ones who truly looked down upon Dwarves; the Men were sometimes distrustful, but they did not have a history with the Dwarves of Erebor like Thranduil did. The Men of Dale were there as well, but they got along well with both the Dwarves of Erebor and of the Iron Hills these days. Trade was good. There was no need to be nervous around these Men.
"They are so young," Fíli commented. "I think that lad who just bumped into me wasn't yet thirty."
"You may be right," said Thorin, surveying the crowd himself. "Many of them are under fifty, it seems. And they consider them capable and ready for such things at such a young age…"
"They don't live as long as we do, though," said Fíli. "I suppose they must mature more quickly."
Thorin chuckled. "I don't think your brother is mature yet at the age of ninety-five."
Fíli smiled and attempted to hold in his laughter, looking over at his brother animatedly talking to Denethor and Beren.
"He just has a carefree spirit," he said. "I don't think he will ever truly seem mature. Not the way we are, anyway."
"I suppose so," Thorin mused, watching his younger nephew. He turned his gaze back to Fíli and squeezed his shoulder again. "You'll be all right tonight?"
Fíli sighed and shrugged. "I suppose so. I'll have to."
"Eat something light to settle your stomach," Thorin suggested. He gestured to the table full of refreshments beside him. "Some crackers, perhaps. We have a long night and a long day tomorrow ahead of us."
"All right," Fíli said. Thorin patted him on the back, and Fíli departed to get himself a few crackers. He scooped up some and set them on a plate, moved to a quiet corner, and then sat down to watch the commingling companies. Mirkwood Elves, Men from Dale, Gondor, and Rohan, Dwarves from home and the Iron Hills, all united under the Lonely Mountain. Twenty years ago, he would never have thought this possible. But here it was, happening in their own home. Stressed as he was, it made him feel good. If they could stay united, there could be a long-lasting peace—especially if they kept the Dark Lord at bay before he ever rose against them.
An Elf with auburn hair approached him then, breaking through his thoughts. He looked down at Fíli with a familiar but irritatingly Elven stare—one could never know what Elves were thinking. Fíli blinked up at him, chewing.
"My apologies, Prince Fíli," the Elf said. "My name is Fingolas. I could not help but overhear that you were feeling poorly."
Fíli felt heat creeping into his cheeks. Damn Elves and their superior hearing. He swallowed and attempted to say something, but he stumbled on his words and merely made a strange noise of assent.
"I am a healer," Fingolas explained as he pulled something out of a bag he had on his shoulder, "and I may have something that can help your stomach, if you would like it."
Fíli blinked. "I would love it," he said.
Fingolas smiled and handed over a large tablet; Fíli took it and looked at it curiously.
"You simply chew it and swallow it," he said. "It should settle your stomach quickly."
"Thank you," Fíli said. "I appreciate this very much."
Fingolas's smile broke into a toothy grin then. "You are very welcome, Prince Fíli. Anything to help our hosts." Then, before Fíli could say another word, he bowed and disappeared back into the crowd.
Fíli furrowed his brow and looked through the crowd, marveling at how quickly the Elf had disappeared. Then, giving up, he looked down at the tablet in his hand. The Elves had helped with the medicine that had let him sleep peacefully after the battle; he had no reason to believe that this would not work as well. He put it in his mouth and chewed and swallowed, and miraculously, within a minute, his stomach had settled almost completely. He closed his eyes and smiled. He still did not exactly like Elves, but he certainly felt much more appreciative of them than he had when he was younger. They weren't so bad after all, it seemed.
"Fíli!"
Fíli opened his eyes again, searching for whoever had called him. He spotted him waving from a little distance away and grinned broadly—Bain! The young boy was now a young man, and he had grown into his role as prince of Dale well, having the same humble beginnings Fíli had known growing up in the Blue Mountains. They had become fast friends in the past years, and Bain visited often. Bard—King Bard—was surely around here somewhere, but Fíli would look for him later. With his unease partially settled, Fíli was ready to socialize again. Kíli was right. If he was going to have to speak to all these people, he might as well speak to some people he liked.
Fíli had never seen so many people in the grand dining room. They had had many people over the years, but this was quite the special occasion, with Free Peoples from six different kingdoms represented. It was surely a momentous occasion, and Thorin made the most of it—in fact, Fíli was glad that the food was not served until after his uncle's speech; if it had been delivered before, the food certainly would have gone cold. He could not remember anything past the first ten minutes, himself, and he marveled that his cousins from the Iron Hills had not died of starvation waiting for their meal.
Fíli was feeling good. The uncomfortable sick feeling had passed, and time in Bain and Kíli's company had eased his nerves. He was actually starting to enjoy himself. Though they had attempted to spread out the royal family and other Dwarves of Erebor among all the tables, Thorin had let Fíli and Kíli sit together. He knew how Fíli was feeling, and with a talker like Kíli at his table, if he needed to withdraw for a moment, there would be no offenses given to the others at their table—Beren of Gondor, Bain, two brown-haired Elves from Thranduil's kingdom named Ithiliel and Anardil, a Man from Rohan named Déorwine, and a dark-eyed dwarrowdam from the Iron Hills neither Fíli nor Kíli had met before named Elís. The group spoke easily together, and Kíli kept them all laughing with stories.
The first course was a small Elvish soup paired with a white wine. Fíli thought the soup was quite delicious, but Kíli whispered in his ear that he thought it was dreadful and only ate a bite or two. Then came a Gondorian salad with fruits and nuts in it that everyone enjoyed, even the Dwarves—though Fíli spied Dwalin looking sadly at the lack of meat on his plate and had to stifle a laugh. The main course was Dwarvish, of course: plenty of meat, root vegetables, and potatoes with onions and garlic. It was hearty and delicious, and Fíli was eager to dig in after the small first and second courses. These Elves and Men did not know how to eat.
It was at the end of the third course that Fíli's stomach began to churn painfully once again. He tried to ignore it at first, but the pain only grew; by the time they were done with their course, Fíli was bending with pain. Kíli noticed his brother's discomfort as their plates were whisked away and put a hand on his back.
"Fíli, are you all right?" he whispered, watching the group around them. Fíli looked up as well; the Men and Elves were caught up in conversation still, but Elís was watching them carefully. Fíli averted his eyes.
"Just a stomachache," Fíli whispered back. "I'm not sure I can eat much more."
"We haven't even had that much," said Kíli. "Are you sure everything is all right?"
Fíli nodded, catching Elís's stare again. "Just let me be," he said. "I'll be fine."
But he wasn't fine. When the fourth course came out—a Rohirric dessert—Fíli could barely stand to look at it. He could feel his heart beating uncomfortably in his chest. When he reached for his spoon, his hands seemed reluctant to obey him. His stomach lurched, and he reached quickly for his water and gulped it down. Why could he not stop salivating, even though he was not hungry? He swallowed for what seemed like the thousandth time that day and bowed his head, pressing a hand to his stomach. Kíli touched his back again.
"Fíli?"
"I can't do it, Kíli," he whispered urgently.
"Can't do what?"
Fíli turned around in his seat and vomited on the floor.
The room grew silent as Fíli sat bent over double, tremors passing through him, his head between his knees. His face was burning with shame. In front of all these people. They all saw it. You've ruined everyone's dinner. This is how they will all remember you.
"Come on, Fíli, let's go," Kíli said from somewhere far away. He felt his brother's arms wrap around him, and then he was being lifted to his feet; he stumbled awkwardly, keeping his head bowed. His stomach hurt so badly… Kíli helped him along, but his feet felt like big wooden blocks. He groaned as another tremor went through his body. Where was Kíli taking him? No one would want to eat now. His stomach lurched again, and he gagged, but nothing came up. Kíli pulled him away faster, and soon they were out of the grand dining room; Fíli felt himself being lowered into a chair, and he slouched into it, his eyes closed.
"Blimey, Fee, why didn't you say anything sooner?" Kíli said over the constant beat in his ears. "If you were feeling that badly, Uncle would've let you stay in bed…"
"Wasn't this bad earlier," Fíli replied, panting. He forced his eyes open; Kíli was looking at him with wide eyes. He let his eyes slip closed again and let out another groan. His limbs felt like they were slowly being wrapped in lead. Another tremor shook him.
"Can I help?" said a feminine voice that Fíli recognized as Elís. He grimaced. He didn't want anyone he didn't know near him right now.
"Thank you," said Kíli, "but I don't think Fíli—"
"I'm a nurse," Elís interrupted. "I would be glad to help. Your brother looks quite poorly."
A sharp pain passed through Fíli's gut then, and he cried out involuntarily, clutching his stomach. He had never felt anything like this in his entire life. He wondered if he was dying. His heart was beating in his ears, and his lips and fingers were beginning to tingle as if they had fallen asleep.
"Fine," Kíli said. "Help me get him somewhere more private, then, please."
A moment later, two sets of arms were around Fíli pulling him up, and he stumbled along, wanting nothing more than to lie down and curl into a ball. After far too much walking for his liking, finally they reached a small room and set him down on a couch. Immediately he lay down and drew up his knees, clutching his stomach, tremors coursing through him again and again. Kíli took the crown off his head while Elís set a bowl on the floor beside him.
"Fíli?" called Kíli, resting a hand on Fíli's shoulder. "Tell me what's going on, brother."
Fíli shook his head, pressing his lips together as nausea rose in him again. He leaned over the edge of the couch and vomited into the bowl until there was nothing left in his stomach but bile and then rolled over, breathing heavily.
"Elís?" Kíli said. Fíli could hear the alarm in his voice. Guilt shot through him painfully—his brother should not have to worry about him like this. Why did he seem constantly unable to take care of himself? This was not fit behavior for the heir to the throne.
A gentle hand touched Fíli's forehead, and he opened his eyes to see Elís's dark brown gaze peering down at him. She smiled reassuringly.
"Prince Fíli, can you tell me what you are feeling?" she asked.
"My stomach hurts," Fíli said. "My whole body feels heavy and slow, like it doesn't want to move… and I can hear my heart beating… fingers and face feel like they've fallen asleep…"
Elís pressed two fingers against Fíli's throat and looked out at nothing, and after about half a minute, she frowned and looked back down at Fíli.
"Do you feel lightheaded at all?" she asked.
Fíli paused as another infuriating tremor went through him. "I-I'm lying down—I don't know."
"His heart is beating about half as quickly as it should be," Elís said, looking up at Kíli. "Where is your apothecary?"
"Óin? He's down at the dinner still, I would think," Kíli said, his eyes darting from Elís to Fíli and back. "Should I get him?"
"Aye, I think you should," Elís said gravely. "I don't think your brother is sick, Prince Kíli."
"Of course he is sick," Kíli argued, gesturing at Fíli. "Look at him!"
Elís looked down at Fíli nervously. "What I mean is that he has not simply fallen ill," she said. "I think he has been poisoned."
DUN DUN DUNNN. Please review! Theories are welcome—this is a mystery fic.
Oh, right. I was going to tell you. Casting for Hallas: Idris Elba. Start drooling now, ladies.
Chapter 2 will be up next week!