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gatheringfiki · 2 months ago

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FiKi Week 2025- Day 5 "The Countdown"

The week ended yesterday, but I WILL fill all of the prompts! OuO @gatheringfiki

The Durin estate sat tucked between dark hills and frostbitten hedgerows, its tall windows glowing gold against the winter gloom. Laughter spilled out from the wide front hall, the bonfire’s firelight dancing across half-drunk glasses and wool coats guarding their wearers from the bitter cold. Somewhere beyond the main room, someone was tuning a guitar; someone else had lit sparklers on the back terrace, watching as they flared bright blue in the slight fog.

Fili leaned against the railing outside, a fresh glass of cider warming his insides. Snow flurried in lazy spirals across the fields, collecting in the branches of the hedges that lined the drive. From here, the party inside sounded like a dream—half-faded, like he could make it out better if he tried harder, but not having the energy to.

He felt, more than heard, the door opening behind him.

Bootsteps crunched the freshly gathered snow, but he didn’t turn.

A shoulder bumped into his—firm and familiar.

“I figured you’d be out here,” said Kili, voice low and soft, as if he didn’t want to disturb the serene atmosphere Fili had found himself in.

Fili exhaled through his nose, his breath fogging up in the cold. He remembered how he and Kili used to do this on purpose, pretending they were smoking out of pipes like they’d seen their grandfather do.

“You could’ve stayed inside, it’s freezing here,” he said, angling his head towards his brother, though not looking. Not yet. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Kili shrugging.

“You left,” he said simply, eyes on the field. “Besides, you know I hate countdowns.”

Fili glanced at him sideways this time, catching the faint flush on Kili’s cheeks—maybe from the cold, maybe from the cider, or maybe because of things Fili rather not hope for.

“I know,” Fili said with a small shrug, having heard this more times than he remembered at this point.

“Everyone pairs off like it’s a wedding and…” Kili’s mouth twisted, half in humor, half in something else. “Besides, I’d rather spend the last few minutes with you.”

That startled Fili a little with its sincerity, and he had to clutch his glass a little tighter just so he wouldn’t accidentally drop it. He huffed a small laugh.

“You’re such a sap.”

Kili’s grin widened, eyes flicking towards him before looking away again, like he couldn’t quite hold Fili’s gaze.

“You love it.”

Before Fili could answer, the sound of the guitar strumming from inside the house turned into the beginning of a shout—” Five minutes!”—and the back door swung open, Bofur’s voice ringing out: “Oi, are you two coming or should we start without you??”

Fili could see Kili rolling his eyes, following it with, “He’s had, what, three Guinness and a whiskey chaser?”

Setting his glass down on the railing, Fili smirked, “Come on, before he comes out here and starts throwing snow.”

They stepped inside, the warmth of the house wrapping around them like a hug. Bodies moved in happy clusters, laughter and small talk echoing off each other—hands gestured with drinks, while the music that had been off in the background climbed higher in anticipation. Kili brushed against him in the crowd—once, twice, again—and then a final push from behind sent them colliding.

Fili caught Kili’s arm instinctively, hands strong at his elbows.

Kili looked up at him, startled, and yet he didn’t move away.

They were chest two chest, close enough to feel each other’s warmth. For a fraction of a second, the world narrowed down to the press of Kili’s coat against his own, the soft catch of Kili’s breath. Fili’s own feeling trapped in, like he couldn’t breathe.

And then they both flinched, pulling apart like they’d touched something too hot.

“Sorry,” Kili said, almost too quickly, the word jumbling up into itself. “Didn’t—didn’t see Bofur coming.”

Fili cleared his throat, stepping back one more pace for good measure.

“It’s fine.”

Fili discretely looked around them, but no one seemed to notice. Or, if they did, they were too drunk to care. And yet, what was there to notice? Just two brothers, close as brothers were. Still, Fili suddenly felt aware of every inch of space between them.

Looking back at his brother, Kili seemed to be busying himself by picking at a thread on his cuff, expression unreadable.

Fili’s hands clenched at his sides; he wanted to say something—joke, deflect—but the countdown had started somewhere behind him.

“Ten! Nine!”

He looked back at Kili, finding Kili already looking at him.

“Eight! Seven!” The noise rose around them, friends hugging, couples leaning in towards each other.

“Six! Five! Four!”

Kili gave a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, so much different from his usual carefree grins.

“Three!”

Fili’s hand brushed his in the press of the crowd.

“Two!”

Neither of them moved away, staring at each other—blue eyes onto brown—as if in a trance.

“One!”

Confetti burst from somewhere, cheers erupted. And the world around them didn’t notice two brothers, frozen like statues in the middle of the floor...so close, and yet, a world apart.

Fili was the first to look away, but only because he had to. If Kili kept staring at him like that, with his handsome mouth slightly parted, eyes wide with something Fili didn’t dare name—he was going to do something irredeemable. Something impossible to explain away in the morning. Instead, he turned and cheered like everyone else, reaching for his friends and family in congratulatory hugs.

He heard Kili laugh beside him, a little loud, and maybe a little forced. Fili didn’t miss how he scrubbed a hand over his face like it might clear away whatever had just happened.

They didn’t touch again the rest of the night, not even accidentally.

Later, the party had thinned, most guests tucked away in upstairs rooms or curled beneath blankets in the big living room, warming themselves by the hearth. Music still played low from the surround speakers, a soft instrumental hum.

No one noticed when Fili stepped out, having followed his brother. Kili was perched on the low stone wall of the terrace, hands buried deep in his coat pockets. His breath curled visibly in the air, though he didn’t turn when Fili approached—but he shifted, just enough to make space besides him.

Fili joined him wordlessly.

The silence between them was a familiar one. Not awkward, really, but full. The kind of silence that they often avoided, whether unconsciously or not.

Kili leaned sideways towards him slightly, though not much; just a fraction closer, like a compass needle aligning.

Fili tilted his head, his temple brushing against Kili’s for a moment—featherlight, as if he might pretend it hadn’t happened at all. And yet, Kili didn’t move away, though he didn’t say anything either.

They stayed like that, side by side, staring out into the winter dark where the trees swayed faintly and the waning moon bathed the landscape in soft, gentle light.

A minute passed. Maybe two.

Then Fili shifted, pulling his gloves tighter on his hands, “You disappeared earlier,” he said, voice light, not wanting to make it sound like an accusation, “I looked for you.”

He could see Kili exhaling, his breath curling into the dark, “Didn’t think I should stay too close.”

Fili sighed, feeling the weight between what they weren’t saying settling heavy in his chest. What might have seemed as too much for other people—their closeness, their dependency on each other—was never enough for him. Thoughts he could never speak aloud for fear of losing those dear to him, Kili included. And yet...

“It’s never too close,” Fili murmured, quiet enough no one else could hear, but clearly enough Kili wouldn’t be able to mistake for anything else.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Kili startling slightly, before chuckling.

“I thought I was going to do something stupid back there,” he admitted just as softly.

Fili’s chest ached in the way it had too many times before--slow, and familiar, a little bit sweet. He didn’t speak for a moment, instead looking ahead at the swaying treetops.

Then, without fanfare, he reached out and wrapped his fingers gently around Kili’s wrist, a warm anchor, hidden by the shadows and the thick fold of Kili’s coat.

“You didn’t though,” Fili murmured. “But if you ever do…” His thumb traced once along Kili’s glove before his hand inched forward, grasping onto Kili’s hand firmly, their fingers entwining without a conscious thought.

“I’ll be right there doing something stupid with you.” he finished, looking at Kili, loving the way his face brightened, smile wide and dimpled. He laughed, a quiet, real laugh before leaning into Fili again, shoulder to shoulder this time, their hands still clasped warmly on Kili’s lap.

“Happy New Year, Fili.” he whispered, soft and steady.

Fili let out a soft hum of agreement.

They stayed out there together for a while, savoring the space and moment, just for a bit.

#FiKiWeek2025 #Fili/Kili #FiKi #Durincest #the Hobbit

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gatheringfiki · 2 months ago

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Christmas— chapter seven of the further adventures of writer Kíli and hero Fíli from the GatheringFiKi 12 Days of Christmas 2024 story The Reindeer Pin for FiKi Week 2025 prompt “You are remarkably well-behaved tonight. What have you been up to?”

#FiKiWeek2025 #Fili/Kili #FiKi #Durincest #The Hobbit

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gatheringfiki · 2 months ago

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Día de Los Muertos — chapter six of the further adventures of writer Kíli and hero Fíli from the GatheringFiKi 12 Days of Christmas 2024 story The Reindeer Pin for FiKi Week 2025 prompt “On a scale of one to ten, how prepared are you to give it another shot?”

#FiKiWeek2025 #Fili/Kili #FiKi #Durincest #the Hobbit

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gatheringfiki · 2 months ago

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FiKiWeek 2025 Day 2: "You want a lick?"

Little summary: It’s too hot, their ice cream is melting, and Fili really shouldn’t be letting Kili lick his cone like that. But maybe—just maybe—he doesn’t mind.

Even with the scorching heat, the park was packed, children running around, parents trying to reign them in.

Fili sat with his back to a tree trunk, legs stretched out into the grass, shirt clinging to his shoulder blades. Even with the shade provided by the big tree and many branches above, it was too hot. The sun was melting everything in sight—including the chocolate swirl ice cream threatening to escape the edge of his cone.

Next to him, Kili sat with one knee up, licking at his own ice cream scoop like it was going to disappear at any moment. With the heat in the air, Fili didn’t doubt it definitely would. In contrast to Fili’s chocolate on chocolate cone, Kili had picked vanilla and caramel, with extra sprinkles. He’d joke that he chose it because it matched Fili’s hair.

Hearing that hadn’t made his heartbeat dumbly faster in his chest or anything.

“Earth to Fili, come in Fili,” Kili said, leaning over and nodding at Fili’s cone. “That’s about to drip straight down your wrist.”

Fili rolled his eyes and tilted the cone just enough to catch some of the dripping ice cream with his tongue—awkwardly, and at the worst angle. Kili laughed, loud and bright, sounding sweeter than all of the ice cream in the world.

Before Fili could blink, Kili leaned in and licked the opposite side of his cone, taking care of the dripping chocolate there. A quick there and gone swipe of his tongue, smug as anything, like it was normal behavior and not…that.

Fili stared at him. “Did you—”

“Just helping you out.” Kili grinned wide, lips shiny and sticky, eyes gleaming with mischief, “You want a lick too?”

Fili’s brain short-circuited somewhere between the heat and the shine in Kili’s eyes. The way he was still leaning in—just close enough that Fili could count every freckle, every sunlit eyelash.

“You’re ridiculous,” Fili muttered, voice a little hoarse. He brought his ice cream cone closer and licked at it again, pretending he wasn’t licking the same spot Kili just had, his face feeling warmer than it had just a few seconds ago.

Kili flopped back dramatically onto the picnic blanket below them, seemingly already done with his own ice cream, sighing like he’d done something noble and quite helpful.

“You love it.”

Unfortunately, Fili did. It didn’t mean he had to play nicely.

“One day, someone’s gonna see you do that and never look at us the same again. Your chances with girls? Gone,” Fili said, continuing his quest to finish his ice cream cone.

Kili propped himself up on one elbow, grinning lazily.

“Good thing I’m not after girls, then, isn’t it?”

His grin didn’t waver, staying sincere and uncomplicated, though something flickered behind his eyes, gentle still. He flopped back again, arms stretched wide, one hand brushing against Fili’s where it lay on the blanket.

Fili didn’t move it.

The moment lingered, long enough that it meant more to Fili than just passing words.

He looked at his ice cream cone, now more chocolate soup inside than ice cream. “You say things like that too easily,” he said at last, voice quiet.

Kili didn’t open his eyes, his smile softer now. “Only when I mean them.”

And Fili…didn’t answer.

But he didn’t pull his hand away, either. Instead inching it closer until it rested halfway on top of Kili’s.

#FiKiWeek2025 #Fili/Kili #FiKi #Durincest #the Hobbit

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gatheringfiki · 2 months ago

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FiKi Week 2025- Day 3 "Midnight. On the bridge. Come alone."

Late one more time lol I'm going to get through it even if it takes me forever tho! @gatheringfiki

Summary: A diplomatic visit. A harp that won’t stop playing. A midnight note. Fili and Kili, a quiet bridge, and something neither of them is quite ready to say.

Whoever had given Thorin the idea of sending Fili and Kili over for diplomatic talks to the closest Elvish city had probably been trying to sabotage the re-emerging kingdom of Erebor. Except, Fili fancied himself a pretty good dignitary, and he knew how to talk his way through even the most tedious of meetings. Thorin had ingrained the more princely duties into Fili from a young age, so young his beard was just starting to prickle over his face.

No amount of smooth talked words and courtly compliments could make this moment in time go by any faster, however.

The visiting hall they were in was of a peaceful Elven outpost near Erebor. They had also lost warriors to the Battle, and Fili and his brother had been sent to offer gratitude and speak of peace and trade. Moonlight filtered in through the high windows, giving the atmosphere a more enchanted sheen.

It was late.

The diplomatic feast was winding down. Finally. Music, light, wine, and—after a harp starting plucking away—a little too much secondhand embarrassment.

Fili stilled, blinking in some disbelief. At his side, Kili was trying—very hard, by the looks of his extremely red face—not to laugh.

Twenty minutes went by in this fashion, the elven harpist playing the same eight-note trill over and over again. Fili was of the thought that he had heard goats sound the same at one point or another during the journey to Erebor.

Fili leaned towards Kili, angling to whisper in his ear, “If I hear that bloody loop one more time, I’m going to walk into the river and stay there.”

Fili saw Kili biting his knuckles to keep the laugh in. Across the table, the elf dignitaries remained composed as ever, sipping from crystal goblets like nothing in the world has ever gone wrong.

Kili lowered his hand, still shaking with silent laughter. He leaned in close, the edges of his grin all mischief and moonlight.

“If he plucks that same note again,” he murmured, low and quiet, the words drifting warmly over Fili’s ear, “I’m declaring war.”

Fili arched a brow, resisted the temptation to cover his ear, feeling goosebumps raise the hair on the back of his neck. “On who? The harpist?”

Kili’s voice dropped, “On formalities. Starting with that smug look you’re wearing.”

Fili met his eyes, lips quirking despite himself. His face probably looked even more smug because of it, he was sure. He decided not to answer, though he didn’t look away, staring without flinching into his brother’s beautiful, ridiculous eyes.

Kili smiled back, dimples forming on his cheeks—he looked even more mischievous because of them. He turned back to the table after a minute, and Fili followed his example.

Another loop of the same plucking strings, and Fili was slowly going through the entire carafe of wine, feeling floaty enough not to hate the song this time. A moment later, Fili felt a tug at his sleeve—Kili subtly slipping him a scrap of parchment before standing up and excusing himself from the table, leisurely walking out the big double doors. Festivities were officially winding down, and no one batted an eye, bidding him a good night.

Fili glanced down, unfolding the note: “Midnight. On the bridge. Come alone.”

------

The night air was cool against Fili’s flushed cheeks, the warmth of the feast and wine finally wearing off as he followed the winding path away from the elven hall. His absence had garnered as much attention as Kili’s had—hopefully not foreshadowing of their deals falling through. Fireflies blinked between the trees like little lanterns, and somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted once; all of this helped to calm down his thoughts a little.

The bridge appeared through the mist like a half-forgotten dream. Old wood, soft moss, parts of it a little worse for wear, though still sturdy.

And there—at the far end—stood Kili, fidgeting.

Cute.

He spun when he heard Fili’s boot on the planks. “You came.”

Fili raised an eyebrow, his heart rate picking up seeing Kili looking out of his element. His brother was usually confident, sometimes even cocky—but now he looked...unsure.

“You said midnight, on the bridge. Come alone.” He drew a blade from inside his jacket and flipped it once in his hand. “I brought my knives. Do they count as company?”

Kili laughed, but it was quieter than normal—a little nervous if Fili could place the tone.

“Only if they talk.”

Fili stepped closer, pocketing the knife back, coming to a stand not two feet from Kili. This close, Fili could almost feel the nervous energy coming off Kili in waves.

“Sometimes they do. They mostly say, ‘This better be good, or we’re going back to the harp recital.’”

Kili groans around a laugh, rolling his eyes, “Please, not the harp again.”

Fili hummed, but didn’t say anything, instead opting to look out at the expanse of the dark landscape that could be overlooked from the bridge. Although the moon was high up in the sky, it waned quite a bit, not bringing much brightness down onto the ground.

The fireflies flitted everywhere, providing much of the light, blinking in and out, mesmerizing to watch. Fili leaned against the railing of the bridge, enjoying the breeze as it rustled through his hair—all that wine had made him warm. Being this close to his brother, shoulder bumping shoulder, made him even warmer.

So many of his thoughts were clamoring to be spoken, and yet Fili silently swallowed them, stuffed them down deep in his chest. It wasn’t hard to do, having had years of practice; it was practically second nature to him at this point.

Kili didn’t lean away from him, keeping their proximity. He might have leaned even more fully against Fili, pressing his arm closer too, though that could have been all in Fili’s head. The sudden sharp inhale coming from his brother was definitely real though, and Fili tilted his head sideways, observing as Kili gulped.

“I—” Kili said, voice a little hoarse. Immediately, his face seemed to flush red, lovely and unguarded. Fili felt a little sorry for him and spoke before Kili could try forming words again.

“You what?” Fili asked, keeping his voice light. “You brought me all the way out here just to say you forgot your good boots?”

Kili huffed a laugh—quiet and relived, though still a little shaky.

“No,” he said, glancing at Fili from the corner of his eye, “but now that you mention it, I did.”

Fili hummed, turning back to look out towards the darkness before him, the thousand little lights around them almost hypnotizing. He could feel like beat of his own pulse in his throat, beating faster than it had just a few minutes ago. Wishful thinking was quickly taking up space in his mind, uprooting the logic that Fili had grasped up to tightly for half of his life. He stubbornly held on—there was no way Kili was trying to tell him anything that aligned with any of his hilariously delirious fantasies.

Kili leaned forward a little more, fingers drumming together once and then stilling before clasping together. They stood in silence for a while, full of unsaid words and dimming courage. Fireflies blinked all around, golden little ghosts floating between them.

Fili turned his head, letting himself look at his brother. Really looking at the profile he knew better than anything else in the world.

“You didn’t just come out here to talk about boots,” he said softly, though not accusingly.

Kili didn’t answer right away, his head dropping lower, his eyes covered by his bangs. An almost inaudible sigh came from his next.

“No,” he admitted, “but I think I lost my nerve.”

Fili smiled, small and warm, affection a stabbing little pain, his heart aching a little with it.

“Then we’ll find it next time.”

He let his shoulder lean in, firm and steady, brushing against Kili once more until they touched fully—elbow to elbow, side to side.

Kili didn’t pull away. He just breathed out, low and relieved, and turned his head to rest it against Fili’s shoulder, resting it just below Fili’s jaw.

“Next time,” Kili murmured, “I’m bringing better boots. And maybe a better excuse.”

Fili’s smile widened. He lowered his cheek to rest lightly against Kili’s hair.

“...Yeah, me too.”

#FiKiWeek2025 #Fili/Kili #FiKi #durincest #the Hobbit

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gatheringfiki · 2 months ago

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FiKi Week 2025 Day 4: "Wait. What propechy?!"

Day 4: “Wait. What prophecy?!” (late as always lol @gatheringfiki)

Scene 1:

Fili and Kili return from an expedition to the mines, covered in coal head to toe and grumbling. They find the main hall in complete chaos—some were whispering, some laughing, others were eyeing them weirdly. Even Thorin, with his arms crossed and a thunderous expression on his face, is pointedly not looking at them.

Kili: Why is everyone looking at us like we just committed treason?!

Bofur (trying not to wheeze): You haven’t heard? Balin translated a stone tablet recently excavated from the ruins. Said there’s a prophecy about you two.

Fili: A prophecy.

Bofur (openly laughing now): Erebor’s prophesying newlyweds, apparently!

Fili: I beg your pardon.

Kili: What.

Balin (severely offended): It’s a perfectly accurate reading...aside from the one verb.

Ori (holding said stone tablet): It says...”when the moon is full and the mountain trembles, the younger prince shall...bed the elder?”

Kili (flushed red): BED?! Shouldn’t that say heed or protect or something?!

Ori (consulting his notes): I mean, it could also mean bind to in certain dialects...Or weld to, like metal.

Bifur (signing wildly): Or consummate.

Someone screams.

Thorin (deadpan): We are never letting Elves handle our record keeping again.

Scene 2: In Private

Later, the hilarity and outrageous comments die down, but the tension doesn’t. Fili is cleaning his blades sitting on the bed, while Kili paces in front of him, unusually quiet.

Kili: You don’t think they actually believe it...do you?

Fili: It’s hard to say. They believe in talking ravens and magic rings. This isn’t even the strangest thing I’ve heard today.

Kili snorts but then goes quiet again. He sits next to Fili, elbow nudging his.

Kili: It’s stupid. Just a—a mistranslation.

Fili (softly teasing): You worried I’ll hold you to it?

A sharply inhaled breath from Kili, then he looks at Fili with a crooked smile and too-honest eyes.

Kili: It wouldn’t be the worst fate in the world.

Fili stills, eyes flicking to his brother’s, his breath catching.

Fili: I’ve endured worse.

They sit in that suspended moment—just long enough to make hearts pound and brains short-circuit—until Fili smirks and nudges Kili back.

Fili: Just promise me, if the prophecy ever does come true…

Kili: …you won’t look so surprised when I do something reckless about it?

Fili huffs a laugh, low and quiet—but he doesn’t deny it. Kili’s smile softens, eyes searching, lingering for just a second too long.

#FiKiWeek2025 #Fili/Kili #FiKi #Durincest #the Hobbit

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gatheringfiki · 2 months ago

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For @gatheringfiki’s 2025 FiKi Week

Day Seven: The dream market

#FiKiWeek2025 #Fili/Kili #FiKi #Durincest #The Hobbit

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gatheringfiki · 2 months ago

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Past and Present Fic

https://archiveofourown.org/works/67128097

Fili and Kili are set to synchronise the Memories of Leo and Bran Durin to find the piece of Eden. But soon they find out that the history records were not correct about certain things and then the past starts to bleed over into the present. Who are they and what are they for each other?

For the FiKi Week Prompt "Inherited Memories"

#FiKiWeek2025 #Fili/Kili #FiKi #Durincest #The Hobbit

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gatheringfiki · 2 months ago

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Halloween — chapter five of the further adventures of writer Kíli and hero Fíli from the GatheringFiKi 12 Days of Christmas 2024 story The Reindeer Pin for FiKi Week 2025 prompt “Can you understand the violence it took to become this gentle?”

#FiKiWeek2025 #Fili/Kili #FiKi #Durincest #The Hobbit

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gatheringfiki · 2 months ago

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For @gatheringfiki’s 2025 FiKi Week

Day Six: Inherited Memories

#FiKiWeek2025 #Fili/Kili #FiKi #Durincest #The Hobbit

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gatheringfiki · 2 months ago

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‘Can you Understand the Violence It Took to Become this Gentle?’

A small ficlet written for the @gatheringfiki Fiki Week.

**********

Kíli had never seen Fíli’s gentleness as an issue, not until he had stayed up late one evening, caught in the tangle of youthful curiosity and quiet rebellion. He had crouched in the stairwell, hidden in the shadows, listening to Thorin and his mother speak. Thorin was due to name his heir and Kíli was curious. Not because he didn’t know who Thorin would choose; of course it would be Fíli, but because he didn’t understand the delay. Why hesitate when the answer was so painfully obvious? In the absence of children of his own, Thorin’s oldest nephew would inherit the crown.

But that night, Kíli learned of Thorin’s doubt. Not doubt in Fíli’s worthiness, no, never that, but doubt in whether the crown would crush what Thorin called his softness.

And that was when Kíli first realised that Thorin, for all his love, did not truly know his brother. He didn’t see what Kíli saw: that something in Fíli had to burn to make space for that gentleness.

Thorin doesn’t know. But Kíli knows. He knows there is violence in that quiet. Not the loud kind, not the kind that scars the skin, but the kind that breaks and remakes the soul over and over, until even rage learns to kneel.

He remembers thinking, even then, how strange it was, how easily gentleness could be mistaken for fragility. As if Fíli’s quiet had not been forged in the same fire that had hardened the rest of them. As if his kindness were some untouched thing, delicate and naive.

But Kíli knows better.

He has seen the moments no one else was meant to see, the clench of Fíli’s jaw when the burden grows too loud, the way he steps between fury and consequence without fanfare. He’s seen his brother take harsh words and return them softened, never because they didn’t hurt, but because he chose not to pass the wound onward. That choice, that is the violence no one speaks of. The cutting away of the self, bit by bit, until only what is needed remains.

He wonders if Thorin ever notices the way Fíli watches a room. Not just with the eyes of a prince, but with the eyes of someone always bracing for what must be done. Someone who long ago gave up the luxury of ease. That softness isn’tweakness; it's armour.

Fíli was not born gentle.

He became it.

And Kíli sees the cost of that every time his brother smiles with weary grace, when his voice steadies the fury in their bloodline, when he says nothing in the face of hurt and somehow, in that silence, speaks something greater.

Fíli’s gentleness is not the absence of fire.

It is the ash left behind.

And Kíli, who burns too hot, too fast, can only marvel at how his brother learned to carry flame without ever scorching the ones he loves.

#FiKiWeek2025 #Fili/Kili #FiKi #Durincest #the Hobbit

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gatheringfiki · 2 months ago

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For @gatheringfiki’s 2025 FiKi Week

Day Five: “Can you understand the violence it took to become this gentle?”

#FiKiWeek2025 #Fili/Kili #FiKi #Durincest #The Hobbit

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gatheringfiki · 2 months ago

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Summer Solstice - Night — chapter four of the further adventures of writer Kíli and hero Fíli from the GatheringFiKi 12 Days of Christmas 2024 story The Reindeer Pin for FiKi Week 2025 prompt “Wait. What prophecy?”

#FiKiWeek2025 #Fili/Kili #FiKi #Durincest #The Hobbit

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gatheringfiki · 2 months ago

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For @gatheringfiki’s 2025 FiKi Week

Day Four: “Wait. What prophecy?!”

#FiKiWeek2025 #Fili/Kili #FiKi #Durincest #The Hobbit

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gatheringfiki · 2 months ago

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FiKi Week 2025

I'm so late!! This was for Day 1! :) "The Secret Door" @gatheringfiki

Post-canon fluff with kinda drunk!Fíli, a secret door, glowing mushrooms, and Kíli being the most beautiful thing in Erebor (according to Fíli). There’s also a sneeze. 💛✨

The merry making was deep into its fourth or fifth hour, tankards of ale and wine flowing freely between all present. Not a single dwarf- not a single hobbit or wizard either- was without an intoxicating drink in hand. Even Thorin himself, his robes regal and grand, was curiously tipping to one side, leaning closer to their little hobbit than was perhaps completely appropriate. Bilbo wasn’t looking any better, hiccuping around his words as he wildly recounted the many ways in which his estranged family was at this moment making away with all of his fine silver and china at his hobbit home. He had not left Thorin’s side the entire time.

Things had changed fast since that grim morning on the battlefield. Erebor flourished under Thorin’s rule quickly- once the line of Durin had recovered from their wounds and crawled back from death’s door- he was quick to take the official title of Erebor’s King. A small coronation took place, amid the reconstruction of the lonely mountain’s kingdom. Time passed fast, and now just two months after the great battle of the five armies, the great warriors and survivors were completely drunk and plastered.

Fili took all of it in from his position reclining on an extremely comfortable chair, the mead sloshing in his cup with the rocking movements of the chair. He smiled wide, the alcohol fogging his thoughts, dimples deep on his cheeks as he watched Thorin lean even closer to Bilbo. Just a little bit more and the significantly bigger man would squash Bilbo flat. Fili wasn’t sure whether Bilbo would mind or not. Thorin wouldn’t mind either, whether the dwarf knew it himself or was deep in the throes of denial.

Around the great hall, Fili watched their company as they settled into equally chaotic states, ale vanishing even faster because of them. Dwalin was arguing with the stone wall about the rules of some old warrior’s game that no one else remembered; Bofur was halfway through a bawdy song with Bombur beating time on the table; and Nori and Dori had vanished suspiciously early, which meant someone would be missing a coin purse come morning. Ori was valiantly trying to take notes on the proceedings, though the quill in his hand had long since started drawing loops instead of letters. Oin and Gloin were deep in debate over the acoustics of the mountain—while Balin, ever the diplomat, nodded sagely at both without actually listening. It was warm and loud and theirs again, finally.

The vision that Thorin spoke about, everything that they fought and almost died for…

Hands came into Fili’s field of vision for a moment before they completely blocked his sight, settling gently and warm over his eyes. The chair Fili was on rocked backwards as the other person leaned over his back, draping over his shoulders. There was no other person it could be, no one that would be so familiar as to get this close to him, and Fili chuckled, tipping his chin up and resting it backwards on Kili’s shoulder.

“I wonder who this stranger could be?” he asked softly, a little drunken himself.

Fili felt a huff against his ear—Kili laughing. Quiet, and equally as softly. It sent shivers racing down his back, prickling over his skin, the hairs on the back of his neck raising on end. Kili’s presence had no other effect on him than this one, all-encompassing and absolute. If the mead hadn’t already done a thorough job of warming him from the inside out, Kili close to him would’ve done the job. As it was, the wave of tenderness that swept over Fili, as big as Erebor itself, took him under—his heart starting a faster rhythm in his chest. “Come on. I found something I’m not supposed to find. So naturally, I need you.” Kili whispered in his ear, hot puffs of air accompanying the words. The smell of ale was strong in his breath and Fili felt just as intoxicated by it as his own drink—and Kili’s proximity. The words evoked a giddiness in him he hadn’t experienced in long months, the feeling not one afforded the luxury of existing during their hard journey. With Erebor restored, the time where him and Kili could be wilder and freer once more, were now.

Lifting one hand, Fili took one of Kili’s and lowered it from his eyes, turning his head and gently bumping his forehead against the stubbly chin so close to him. No proper dwarven beard yet, and yet Kili was easily the most beautifully breathtaking sight in the whole mountain, unruly, un-braided hair; eyes bright and intense with youth, mischief often dancing in their depths. Staring at it directly was never a good idea, as Fili would often find his breath catching, stupidly hiccuping over the wild beauty that was his brother.

“Naturally. You needn’t sound so imploring Kili, you had me at ‘not supposed to find’,” Fili said, a smirk pulling at his lips, his mustache beads clicking together softly at the action.

Kili let out a low, satisfied hum right beside his ear.

“I knew you’d say that. Which is why I already stole us a lantern.” Fili tilted his head, amusement flickering in his eyes, the swelling of affection in his chest almost suffocating. “You what?” But Kili was already slipping away, nimble and clever as ever, and Fili had to stifle a laugh as he stood to follow—quietly, carefully, trying not to stumble on legs that felt a little bit more loose than usual, both of them weaving between the tables; past Dwalin’s drunken monologue and Bofur’s off-key second verse. Not a single head turned. Not even Thorin noticed, too busy frowning at a grinning Bilbo like he couldn’t quite remember how they’d gotten this close. Fili caught up just as Kili reached a darkened archway, lantern in hand, his grin all teeth and secrets. “This way,” he whispered. “Try not to gasp too loudly.” Down the mountain they went, deeper into its winding corridors, majestic staircases, and the occasional crumbling hallway. At one point, Kili had reached back and grabbed his hand, holding it tight to his side. Fili didn’t argue—though he could’ve. He didn’t need any leading, thank you very kindly. As a dwarf, his senses were keener this deep in the ground. He wouldn’t pull away though, not for all the jewels and treasure in the entire mountain; Kili’s hand was warm and calloused, and alive. Something Fili feared hadn’t been an option at the start of their crusade.

The air so deep underground was humid, sticking to his skin and making his clothes stick to him. There was a permeating chill clinging to the surfaces. Fili could hear a faint, echoing drip—distant enough he couldn’t see it, but near enough he could make it out if he strained his ears just a bit more.

Fili was brought back from his thoughts when Kili spoke up, his voice echoing around as it ricocheted off the stone walls around them. A reverb dear to Fili and known down to the core of him, the one sound in the world that turned his insides to mush as far back as he could remember.

“Up ahead, look,” Kili pointed out with the hand holding the lantern, the excitement clear in his voice, his words lilting in tone. There wasn’t a lot of light to see clearly, Kili’s source not big enough to show the entirety of whatever corridor they were in.

Fili followed Kili’s motion, blue eyes squinting against the darkness, the lantern’s light bouncing across the stone floor. At first, he saw only more of the same: damp walls, faint carvings worn away by time, and stone slabs haphazardly strewn around.

A second later, a there-and-gone shimmer caught his eye. Walking closer—Kili tugging at his hand and dragging him closer, Fili could see clearly.

A doorway.

Or the start of one.

Made completely out of stone, chiseled directly into the wall. There were no hinges or door knobs to speak of. Just the outline of an archway, as if they had intended this to be an entrance to somewhere but never got around to finish the rest of it. Dwarven runes had once been proudly carved on it—now barely anything of them remained, time wearing them down to the barest impression. Moss was somehow growing on and around it, vividly green against the muted colors it grew on.

Having let go of his hand, Kili approached it slowly, lantern held aloft. “See? I told you I wasn’t supposed to find it,” he whispered, voice hushed with something like reverence.

They stood before it, Fili watching in wonder; alternating between looking at what looked like an entrance, and glancing at Kili. Small, stolen glimpses at his face, the ale still deep in Fili’s system making him inhale deeply, trying to contain the emotions that threatened to pour out of him like a cup finally spilling everywhere after overfilling. After a moment, Fili frowned. The tingling in his hands wasn’t coming just from the alcohol—but a pull at the tips of fingers, itching and static. His hand wanted to lift and touch the stone before him.

Fili let out a breath and tilted his head, eyes narrowing at the moss-covered doorway.

“Well. That doesn’t feel ominous at all.”

Kili looked at him, grinning wild, dimples similar to Fili’s on his cheeks. His hair was coming loose from its clasp, sticking every which way; it gave Kili a look of innocence that Fili adored. His hands itched with more than whatever magic was coming from the door, but with the aching need to reach out and do more than just hold Kili’s hand.

The pull grew stronger, drawing Fili’s attention away from his brother again. It pulled gently at his ribs, guiding rather than yanking.

“Do you feel that?” Fili asked, voice low. “It’s like...it wants us to go in.”

Kili didn’t answer. Instead, his hand shifted slightly, fingers brushing against Fili’s where they both reached toward the stone at the same time. Their skin made contact—each other, then the arch. The light from the lantern flickered, and the stone sighed. A small rumble later, and the stone door moved under their hands, sliding up and out of the way. Fili looked up, but could not see what mechanism would’ve made that possible.

Thoughts of metals and gear were soon replaced as the air changed once the stone finished moving up. Cool, damp air met them, tinged with something and green. Fili stepped in behind Kili, and the breath left him in a slow, silent rush.

The space beyond the door wasn’t a room, but a garden! A grove, hidden deep within the mountain—untouched for what looked like centuries, if the overgrown and wild flora were any indication. Vines curled up ancient stone arches, glowing mushrooms sprouted like tiny lanterns along the moss-covered steps, and a thin stream of water glimmered where it wove past fern-draped banks and broad-leafed plants Fili didn’t even recognize. Everything shimmered with the soft-blue green of bio-luminescence, like starlight trapped in leaves.

From the corner of his eye, Fili saw Kili’s lantern flicker and dim, though he hardly noticed. This place glowed on its own, no fire needed.

It was quiet, though not necessarily silent. The trickling of water Fili had heard before was louder now, distant drips echoing in unseen pools. The scent of wet earth and limestone hung in the air, layered with something sweetly herbal that Fili couldn’t name. At his side, Kili looked around in as much open wonder, eyes wide as he took in the wondrous sights. The excitement on his face, the wide smile on his lips—all was more beautiful than any one thing in this garden.

Kili skipped ahead, bounding over the stone and moss covered path, ducking under ferns, bending down and over the glowing mushrooms, poking and prodding with his fingertips and laughing in wonder when they came away luminescent—glowing as bright as the little mushrooms were. Fili watched him explore with the eagerness of youth, touching and tugging at the fern leaves above him, sending more bright blue power sprinkling over him.

Fili chuckled, his chest feeling tight with emotion, as if his heart was being squeezed; the overwhelming want to reach out and gather Kili in his arms and squeeze him just as tight was hard to suppress. Giving in an inch, he walked closer and dusted Kili’s shoulders, sending the glowing specks all over.

Kili sneezed.

Really cutely.

Fili laughed this time, open and louder than he had in a long time.

“You’re ridiculous,” he said fondly, brushing more glowing dust out of Kili’s hair. At this point, it was getting on Fili as much as Kili.

Kili doesn’t brush him away, doesn’t squirm under the attention; instead Fili watches as he tilts his head down just a little, angling his face in towards Fili’s hand. Then sticks his tongue out.

“You love me.”

Fili startles—not overtly, but enough that Kili notices, his smile gentling.

“...Yeah,” Fili said finally, “I do.”

The words hung between them, soft and uncomplicated, though not unimportant.

Kili blinked, his ridiculously long eyelashes dusted with bio-luminescence and then his smile somehow become more degrees warmer, his dimples deepening. There was no teasing in his expression, just something open and warm, eyes glowing like they’d caught the garden’s light.

Then he took a step closer.

Fili didn’t move back, holding his breath as Kili leaned in and pressed their forehead together. The contact was barely there, and yet intoxicating, dizzying in its intensity—a gentle tilt of their heads, their breath intermingling between them, a quiet I know.

Then Kili kissed him. Softly, though not tentative. A brief brush of lips, deeper than Fili would’ve thought their first kiss to be. A kiss that had been waiting just beneath the surface for a long, long time.

Fili sighed into it, melting inside, eyes falling closed, hand coming up to cradle the side of Kili’s neck, callused thumb brushing across warm the underside of Kili’s jaw, skin soft.

They pulled apart after another beat, though they didn’t go far. Kili nuzzled his nose against Fili’s cheek, smiling when it made him laugh again, low and breathless. And then Fili pulled him into a hug—tight and all-encompassing, arms around Kili’s shoulder, burying his face into the curve of his neck. Kili wrapped his arms around him just as tightly, warm and solid and safe.

They stayed like that, standing in the glow of a garden lost to time, wrapped around each other.

They were finally home.

#FiKiWeek2025 #Fili/Kili #FiKi #Durincest #The Hobbit

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