king-on-carven-throne - Tumblr blog

king-on-carven-throne · 9 hours

Text

GF's AUpocalypse 2024 - Cinderella AU

Bonus fullsize Fili

MY OTHER EDITS

There's also a bit of a story to go with this one, some 5.2k of it. I've been sitting on it since April 2017.

However, before you read it, you should know that it's not great, in fact, I consider it to be sub-standard writing for me, and will not be publishing it on my AO3 or anywhere else. It's also unfinished and will not be getting finished - you should also know that.

Fundamentally, I wrote as much as I did and had a major disagrement with the concept of 'love at first sight'. You see, to my mind, it doesn't work for FiKi as a pairing (or possibly it just doesn't work, full stop). What my heart wants is about 80k-100k of a slow burn, covering the span of about 6 decades where they get to know each other, heaps of mutual pining, construct proper personalities for both Fili and Kili, unpack the blatant inequality of power between them etc. etc. I want to flesh out and develop plot-lines for Dis, Thorin and the Ri-brothers, and figure out how the magic works in this universe.

But the original Cinderella fairytale doesn't allow me the space for all of that. It's all: ball > marriage > happily ever after. Which to me, frankly, is utter nonsense. *Shrug*

But it fitted perfectly with the photoset I came up with and I'm glad to see it aired out and of my Writing Folder, so here goes nothing:

---------------------

Prince Fili’s Third Coming of Age Ceremony took place at a tender age of 65.

It was early perhaps, but then these were perilous times: the Prince was not only battle-ready, he’d had some practical experience of it, having taken part in a number of skirmishes with orcs around the kingdom’s borders. He was a fierce warrior, a cunning diplomat and a hot-headed idiot in turns, which in the common folk was met with a mix of disgruntled admiration and exasperation. But he was liked well-enough and easily acknowledged as King Thorin’s heir both within the kingdom’s borders and outside of them. He’d inherited the position; but he made it truly his own with charm, charisma and hard work.

Had he fully understood what the Ceremony entailed, Fili himself would have perhaps resisted, but he was young and confident and used to getting his own way. Besides, the Third Coming of Age meant far greater freedom and independence from the Crown and, like any young dwarf, Fili pounced at the opportunity of having a longer leash.

The celebrations were planned to befit the grandeur of the House of Durin: there was to be a great ball of course, guests from the four corners of the world, tables laid full to the brim with good food and drink, music and entertainment, and even a firework display at midnight.

Once again, Fili graciously agreed, happy enough to share his own joy with others and delighted to have some merriment within the walls of a usually restrained palace.

The trouble started when Thorin let slip that he’d be looking for a bride for Fili during the ball. It was important that Fili was married as soon as possible and would be better yet if he had a bairn on the way not long after. Succession was paramount to kingdom’s stability and Thorin was nothing if not determined to have not only an heir, but also a spare.

There was a meticulously planned and researched list of eligible princesses, all lined up to be whisked away onto the ballroom floor, in appropriate order of course, sized up as potential brides, and romanced just enough to become an enthusiastic fiancée or an un-problematic rejection. The ball was now less than a month away and all invitations had been sent, with folk pouring into the mountain day and night, all excited to boot at this excellent opportunity to get utterly plastered at someone else’s expense.

In short: it was too late now to back out.

Luckily, Prince Fili, who at that point had 65 years’ worth of experience in dealing with his King and uncle, kept his cool.

“Yes uncle,” he agreed with a grin just wide enough to suggest to an ardent observant that mischief was brewing in that clever head of his.

Luckily, King Thorin, was not the most ardent of observants.

Fili bowed with just a touch too much charisma and left the Council chambers to the respectfully low murmur of voices.

And then he did what any young dwarf would have done in his place: he hatched a plan.

---

Kili gave a triumphant little grunt, as he finally managed to remove a particularly stubborn patch of soot from the inside of the fireplace. He’d been scrubbing at it for the past 20 minutes and had to admit that it felt good to be finally getting somewhere.

“You’ve missed a spot,” Dori supplied behind him helpfully, pointing to the opposite corner with a poker.

Kili sighed and crawled in that direction. When it came to cleanliness, Dori was a tyrant.

He started scrubbing anew.

It wouldn’t be fair to say that Dori was being mean per se. He himself had been polishing all the wooden furniture just feet behind Kili, which might have been a cleaner job, but no less labour intensive. It was simply that Dori had really high standards when it came to cleanliness of a respectable dwarven homestead. Higher even than Kili’s own mother and that was saying something.

Still, could be worse, Kili supposed: Ori had been relegated to cleaning the outhouse.

He sighed and attacked the stonework again. At least Nori was nowhere to be found, which meant that Kili couldn’t get into trouble. For now.

---

It took Prince Fili a while to weasel the right info out of the right people. It was important though that he got this right, and Fili took his time. He only had one shot at this.

It was only a week before the party when he finally managed to get away from the Palace for long enough to make the trip.

He pulled his hood tighter around his annoyingly-recognisable golden head, before stepping confidently into the light.

“Are you the one they call the Fairy Godmother?” he addressed the dwarrowdam by a cart, who was overseeing it being loaded with some heavy-looking casks by three burly characters.

She turned away from the wagon slowly, giving him a measured once-over. The scrutiny chafed somewhat, when directed at the royal heir without an ounce of respectful deference, but Fili stood his ground and offered what he hoped was a friendly smile.

“That depends on who’s asking,” she said and tilted her head curiously. Behind her, three sets of hands produced an array of heavy and sharp objects indicating that there was a correct answer to this question.

Fili held out his empty hands, hoping that the pommels of his daggers weren’t showing. “A simple, unarmed traveller, who has use of your… services and will pay for them handsomely.”

He produced a heavy purse of coins and offered it on his outstretched palm.

She arched an eyebrow at him, as if to say ‘that’s what you’re going with?! Really?!’, but took the coin and gestured for the other three to stand down and get back to loading the barrels.

Fili attempted his best friendly smile once more.

“And what is it that you want from the Fairy Godmother? Fame? Fortune? Both?” her voice was dripping with sarcasm.

Fili took a deep breath. “I wish to marry the one person in all my life that I will truly love,” he demanded. “And soon. Like… in the next week or so.”

The woman snorted. “Honestly, lad, in your position that’s hardly a sensible wish. Fame and fortune would have been easier.”

“Sensible or not, is it possible? Men in taverns all the way from the Mountain to the very ends of our lands swear by your name, so I understand you have the power equal almost to that of the wizards. Unless this simple wish is beyond you?”

Flattery, sprinkled liberally with a hefty dose of goading. He’d honed that particular technique on the Elven delegations.

“Son, I sell spirits,” the dwarrowdam deadpanned. “Spirits happen to be exactly what men in the taverns wish for more than anything. Sometimes they call me the Fairy Godmother for it. That is all.”

It was an unfamiliar feeling, as if he had lost his footing all of a sudden, but Fili recovered quickly. “Fine spirits too, as I see. Is that blue absinthe seal that my eyes see on those barrels already loaded?”

“What’s it to you?” the sorceress’ eyes narrowed and, as if by some unspoken command, the sharp implements behind her manifested themselves once again.

“Nothing,” Fili took a step back in a minor tactical retreat. “Only if I am to have my heart shattered, I should very much like to purchase one of those. You know, to soothe the pain.”

“They are not for sale. Already paid for and going to the Ceremony,” she gave him a Look that was more of a threat than the blunt tools she indirectly controlled.

Contrary to the popular belief Fili did have a self-preservation instinct. He just wasn’t very good at consulting it.

“Oh, I see! Only, I happen to know that the royal requisitioners are out of the invoice forms for these,” he said. “Something to do with the printing presses and a mucky contingent of ink, I believe. So that would make this little operation of yours technically… um, black market.”

The sorceress glared and Fili had to admit that the glare was rather impressive.

Still not completely sure he had the upper hand, he gave her his best dimpled smile, the one that made people drop things sometimes.

Finally the Fairy Godmother sighed, rolled her eyes, unceremoniously grabbed Fili by the elbow and pulled him away from the others. “There may be a way, but it doesn’t work well on young, hot-headed fools,” she hissed ominously once they were out of the earshot.

Fili nodded seriously, reassured that he was at least eligible. “Excellent.”

“The Spell of True Love. It will work regardless of whether you agree with your heart’s choice or not. People often overlook that last point.”

Fili nodded again.

“There is a price to pay.”

“I was expecting that.”

“For every moment you spend with your love when you first meet them, you will spend years and decades apart before you can finally be together.”

“… Years or decades?”

“A long time! It’s not exact science!”

“Right, right. And how long do you consider to be a moment?”

“Seriously?!”

“This is quite important,” Fili protested.

The sorcerers spun on her heel and made to walk away.

“No, wait! I accept!” he decided on the spot.

The dwarrowdam stopped.

Turned.

Looked him up and down.

Fili, once more, withstood the scrutiny.

“Alright then,” she said finally and the Prince breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank you, truly. Now what do you need for your spell? Some of my blood? A lock of hair? A black chicken to sacrifice at midnight?”

She stared at him again. It was getting unnerving. “Your heart is young yet, but kind and likeable enough for someone who might find that cockiness of yours charming somehow,” the sorceress said finally, making him feel strangely flattered. “But you’re also an idiot,” she finished.

“Er…” Fili was not used to this kind of treatment. “Thanks. Mostly. Now, about the contract –“.

“No contract,” she threw over her shoulder, now almost back to her wagon.

“No contract?!” Dwarves felt strangely unnerved when they didn’t have a piece of parchment in their hand which clearly defined each party’s roles and responsibilities. “But then how will I know?!”

“You just will.”

“But when?!”

“Soon.”

“How soon?! It would have to be at the ball at the latest, otherwise I fear even your magic won’t be able to make my uncle change his mind.”

Fairy Godmother calmly climbed to the seat of her cart full of contraband booze. “You’re going to have to trust me,” she told him by the way of goodbye and clicked on her ponies to walk on.

---

Dis got back home later than she expected.

By then the house was mostly asleep, including Kili, who had somehow slotted himself, legs and all, into an armchair in front of the fire. He’d clearly been waiting for her.

She paused to watch her son for a moment. He had a smudge of soot on his cheek and dark stains, probably of the same nature over the knees of his trousers. He looked exhausted and his knuckles were scuffed.

She sat heavily on the sofa opposite from him and stared into the fire for a moment.

This was not a life she had envisaged for her son. When she and Myori fell in love, both of them widows – she, once, Myori staggering three times – it looked as if life had finally slotted itself onto the right tracks.

They both had families of their own of course, but with all four boys between them grown and close to leaving home, it seemed like they could make it work. Dis finally took over her father’s brewery full time and Myori dived head-first into her fledgling alterations business.

It felt like they were living once again and there was laughter in the house even if every now and then teenage boys sparked into some new drama.

Little did she know that they only had three short years together ahead of them. Illness took her love and there was nothing Dis could do about it. It was then that she promised herself never to dabble in love magic again.

Love – she couldn’t remember any more why people craved to be loved so much.

And now she was the only mother the four of them had left.

There was no backing out though, not when they all depended on her, not to mention all the families the brewery employed.

She wasn’t spending nearly enough time with Kili, and if she was honest with herself, that was the one thing that was eating at her the most.

He must have felt like an orphan at times, but he smiled for her all the same and did his best to be useful around the house. She knew he worked hard, perhaps harder than he should have, if Dori was involved. Dori, who was a perfectionist and had his own home for a time, but returned now to help her look after his two younger brothers.

Kili deserved better; they all did.

Dis sighed and licked her thumb so she could try and wipe the soot off Kili’s cheek.

“Wha -?” he blinked at her owlishly and stirred in his seat.

“Hey, there, Grasshopper. You should be in bed,” she smiled at him.

“Cooked you dinner. S’ on the stove,” he mumbled and returned the smile when she kissed the top of his head.

“Thank you. Now scamper off to bed.”

“No. I’ll sit with you.”

“Kili.”

Her son sighed dramatically in that peculiar way all teenage dwarves seemed to have, but obediently padded towards the stairs.

“Night, mum.”

“Good night, Kili.”

Dis didn’t move immediately. Instead she sat back for a moment longer and pondered the dubious problems of a princely life.

And then she blinked, as a terrifying thought gained momentum in her mind like a fully loaded cart with no breaks on.

---

Prince Fili made it back to his chambers just as the steps sounded on the corridor outside his door. Thankfully, this was hardly his first time sneaking out, so Fili kept a cool head: he kicked off his boots, ran his fingers through his hair and in one smooth move rolled under the covers.

“Fili?” his uncle peered into the room before approaching his bed.

Fili performed his best snore and tried to slow down his breathing.

Bed next to him dipped a little as his uncle and king sat on the edge of the mattress and moved to stroke Fili’s soft, golden hair away from his face.

“You must be exhausted from all the preparations,” his uncle’s low voice sounded in the spacious chambers. “Don’t you worry, sister-son. We will find you a worthy bride, I have taken all the right steps. In your position there will be times when she’ll be your only source of solace, so we’ll be sure to get it right,” he whispered, then tugged Fili’s fur-lined covers up to tuck his shoulder in.

Fili supposed that it must have been difficult, not having a child of your own, or a consort to share your life with. Thorin had had plenty of offers back in his time, but he’d always put the affairs of the kingdom first, until eventually the offers stopped coming. Fili was going to do it all in reverse: consort first, affairs of the kingdom second. Not because he was selfish, but because he thought that a good consort made for a brilliant king.

Blue eyes opened just as the door closed once again. “I have taken steps too, uncle,” Fili informed his chambers, before setting about pulling the rest of his clothes off and making himself comfortable.

---

Dis cast her runes.

She squinted, peering at the answer they formed.

“No,” she huffed, gathered them once more and cast them again.

Yes, the runes insisted.

Dis rolled her eyes and lit another candle. “Give me another option,” she demanded and cast again.

This time all of the runes bounced straight off the table, landing in a complete gibberish on the floor.

“Absolutely not,” Dis insisted with emphasis, focussing all her energy and causing the six candles around her to burn blue for a while. “Tell me.”

The runes, perhaps fed up with the stubbornness of dwarves, bypassed the subtle hints and suggestions and simply lined themselves into neat, straight lines of a name:

KILI

---

A lazy Saturday morning, some 6 days later found Kili fighting with his tunic.

“This is way too fancy, mum!” he whined, when his hair caught in the elaborate lacing around the neck.

“Nonsense, you have to look your best. It’s the Royal Palace, Mahal’s sake!” she snapped and helped him find the edge of the collar only to reveal the desperate state of his hair.

“Fancy clothes or not, I’ll be standing out like a sore thumb,” Kili huffed, but finally managed to fit all his various limbs into the right holes. “I don’t belong there! They probably won’t even let me in.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! The posters clearly invited everyone who wished to attend ‘with good will in their hearts and best wishes for the Prince’.”

The rest of the household was still asleep when Dis slipped into her son’s room with a little parcel in her hands – which was just as well, since they only had the one set.

The clothes had been made by Myori, as one of her most lucrative orders ever, and then returned for some petty reason or another. The tunic was a beautiful navy blue shade, embroidered in real silver thread, free-flowing from the waist down. The trousers were made out of fine, dark fabric and had a flattering cut.

Thank Mahal, although Myori would have wanted to alter it here and there, for the most part the clothes suited Kili great.

“But why do I have to go?!” Kili whined for the umpteenth time and attempted to sort out his hair, which only made everything worse.

Dis huffed and took a brush to it yet again. “It’s fate,” she told him once more, matter-of-factly, like the previous five times. “Besides, there will be free food and drink for all. All the high society, the great and powerful of our kingdom. Who knows, you might even find the love of your life there!”

“Amad…” he gently caught her wrist and half-turned to look her in the eye.

“You’re going, and that’s final,” she told him sternly, ushering him out into the corridor. “Come on, your carriage awaits!”

“My carriage?!”

“You’re taking the cart.”

“I can’t take the cart to a Royal Coming of Age Ceremony!! I’d rather walk!”

“Which I would approve of normally, if we had about 2 days to spare. But since we don’t, you’re taking the cart,” she practically shoved him up onto it. “Now then. Mind your language and manners, always remember who you are and – oh. You must return the cart by sunrise. My other orders do not stop just for a fancy dress party.”

“By – sunrise?! But that’s -”

“You’ll need to leave at midnight at the latest.”

“Mother!”

“Don’t you ‘mother’ me, young man!” She gave him a look, which seemed just a tiny bit too harsh to be believable. “Now off with you.”

After that she slapped the pony’s rear and suddenly Kili went from naught to twenty in no time at all.

It wasn’t until he made it to the next town over that Kili realised that with all the ushering, grooming and cajoling, he was still wearing his comfortable, worn house slippers.

---

Prince Fili was certain that his legs were going to fall off any minute now.

He’d danced twenty dances straight. A lesser dwarf would have thrown in the towel by now, grabbed the nearest fair-bearded, highly-accomplished, delightfully charming, brilliantly-intelligent, exquisitely-well-connected beauty and called it a day.

But not Fili.

Fili could, and would out-stubborn Thorin, who was widely regarded as the most stubborn dwarf in the land. It was a point of personal pride, honed over long decades of his childhood. So instead he stomped towards the ale station and poured himself an entire tankard of whatever happened to be on the tap.

He’d chugged down about half of it in one go, which deprived him of a view of one excellently-dressed, yet utterly befuddled dark-haired youth stumbling in through the main entrance.

Fili licked his moustache and threw a desperate glance at a hall heaving with excellent opportunities.

Then blinked.

His heart beat faster and if Fili believed in such nonsense, he’d swear that the room fell silent in that moment, the candles twinkled around them a little warmer, the air smelled sweeter and –

The lad, with an unerring instinct of his young and thirsty dwarven blood, zeroed in on the drinks station and strutted purposefully towards it, with every intention of drinking the house down.

He was coming towards Fili. For Fili. To save him from a love-less life.

The lad reached for an empty tankard, and Fili, like a seasoned battle commander that he was, made his move.

“Would you do me the honour of a dance?”

The dark-haired dwarf jumped and turned to look behind himself. Then to the sides. “What, me?!”

“Yes, you.” Fili cringed and then slapped himself mentally. “Forgive me, I’m being rude. I would have addressed you by your name, but I’m afraid I’ve missed it upon your arrival.”

“It’s Kili, actually,” the lad replied, head cocked to one side curiously. “And you are –“

“Prince Fili of the House Durin –“

Kili dropped his tankard.

“Excellent, now you have free hands!” Fili decided for both of them, practically threw his own tankard at the nearest servant and swept Kili right onto the dance floor.

---

“Oh, hell no!” Dis groaned, watching as a delicate silk ribbon, which up until a moment ago peacefully occupied one of the drawers of her dresser, now tied itself into a perfect, triple bow.

She yanked at one end, but it held. Beside her a candle flame turned blue.

Dis narrowed her eyes and breathed deeply. She supposed if she got her son this far, she’d have to get him the rest of the way too.

---

“You… look uncomfortable,” amused, but not unkind blue eyes watched him as they sailed across the sea of swirling couples.

“I wasn’t exactly planning on dancing with a Prince.”

Fili arched an eyebrow at him and Kili wondered if he’d said the wrong thing. “Would you have danced with any other dwarf?”

“Depends on the dwarf.”

That got him an incredulous smile and Kili stared at the dimples which peeked from behind a neat, honey-coloured beard.

He wasn’t prepared for the easy charm, strength and intelligence he saw. Something else underneath it all, quiet, but hopeful. He wasn’t prepared for the normality of it all. It didn’t feel like he met a Prince; it didn’t feel like he met any other dwarf either.

It felt like he met someone special, someone who might have been a friend if they had enough time together.

Kili swallowed, torn about what he should do next. He didn’t want to joke and flirt and try too hard to keep their conversation casual, when it simply wasn’t. Equally, he couldn’t very well plunge into any meaningful conversation, when they only likely had a few moments together.

“You look like you have questions,” Fili guided him gently, the same way he guided the movements of his body. “You should ask, even if only a couple. Otherwise you’ll forever wish you had.”

---

Thorin did a double-take.

Fili’s partner was beautiful and dressed in a way that spoke of pedigree, wealth and class. She was grace and poise itself, as they glided across the dance floor like they belonged together. They were also deep in conversation, real conversation, which was more than could have been said for any of Fili’s previous partners.

His nephew had been nothing if not courteous to all of the various assorted princesses and duchesses and ladies of appropriate breeding, and he’d danced with all of them in the pre-prescribed order, until Thorin was beginning to feel kind of guilty about the whole affair.

He knew Fili and he knew when he was being polite, but not invested. If he was honest, Thorin was expecting much more of a rebellion, so when Fili continued on his best behaviour, Thorin started to wait for the other shoe to drop.

But now… now the whole thing was beginning to look like it had been worth it.

He watched as one song came to an end with Fili swirling his partner in a wide arc, which landed her in his arms, with her rich, dark brown hair sweeping around his neck like a shawl.

Their eyes locked for a moment, their chests heaving as they held on.

And then Fili disregarded his next ticket and guided the mysterious lady into another dance.

Thorin allowed himself a single smug grin and then ordered another shot of the excellent blue absinthe they were serving.

---

“I saw a fire moon once. It rose over the pass near Dunland. Huge! Red and gold it was, it filled the sky.”

Fili was drowning in expressive brown eyes. Right in that moment he wanted to see the fire moon too, with Kili. He could have listened to him for days, describing the smallest and biggest of adventures.

Then the clock chimed midnight and the magical tales stopped abruptly.

“Oh shoot, I have to go!”

“What, now?!” Fili whirled them to gentle stop around the edge of the dance floor.

“Yes, right now! Mum will kill me if I don’t return with the – ah, carriage – on time!”

“The – what?!” Fili blinked. That sentence didn’t make any sense.

“I’m sorry!” Kili threw him a pleading look and took off back towards the entrance, promptly disappearing in the throng of other guests.

“Kili!” Fili tried to follow, but was hampered by all those who spotted that he was finally free to engage once more. By the time he’d made his excuses and got outside, all he could see was Kili at the very bottom of the staircase –

- Tripping over his own feet and very nearly face-planting into the gravel of the front drive.

Kili waved his arms about and, through sheer witchcraft it seemed, managed to find his balance once again. Something flew off his person and he stopped to search for it briefly, but whatever it was, from his position Fili saw that it wedged itself high in a nearby hedge and got stuck there.

He tried to run down to help, but he was too far away.

Kili threw a few choice words in the general direction of the staircase, which would have impressed the Mountain’s mining community, turned on his heel and stomped away, somewhat unevenly.

Around Fili, who was only half way down the grand stairs at that point, a thousand brilliant fireworks exploded, making him duck automatically and try to take cover.

And somehow in that moment Fili just knew.

But Kili was gone. For several dreadful heartbeats Fili felt horribly alone, left with an array of princesses, all of them completely disqualified by the lack of the right laughing brown eyes.

And then he remembered that he had had a plan. A brilliant plan, which so far had been executed flawlessly.

Fili moved. He had a shoe to find.

---

Thorin rolled out of the grand banqueting hall as soon as he realised that he couldn’t see Fili and his lady dancing anywhere.

This proved to be a bit of a challenge, since the floor decided to resist him, what with the copious amounts of blue absinthe he had ingested during the course of the evening.

Thorin snarled. He was the King, damn it; he had people for just such things! He called for Dwalin and together with his best friend and a loyal companion of many other such battles, they defeated the evil forces of gravity just enough to make it outside after his nephew.

---

Fili sat on the stairs and stared.

The shoe was – there was really no other way to put it – a worn, falling-apart, slipper. It was stretched, discoloured and if he was honest with himself, it didn’t smell too good either.

He held it cautiously at arm’s length and debated his options.

In all fairness, Fili wasn’t paying enough attention to Kili’s feet to be able to identify if it was the same sort of footwear as he had been wearing right from the start. He was certain however, that the brunet left sans one of his shoes and the slipper happened to be the only shoe available.

Perhaps it held some sort of sentimental value, like a treasured family heirloom, to be worn only on special occasions, Fili tried to reason with himself, when his uncle and the Head of is Personal Guard both barrelled down the stairs towards him in a slightly life-threatening manner.

“Well, where’d she go?!” Fili’s King and uncle demanded.

“She?!” Granted, Kli’s beard hadn’t grown in properly yet, leaving him with an adorable stubble, which made Fili want to run his fingers all over it, but that was an uncalled for remark.

“Oh, don’t play coy with me now, it doesn’t suit you. Your lady! Dark blue dress with silver bits. Dark hair – we are taking that one, I hope you agree. Now, what was her name? We shall send for her within the week.”

Fili hesitated. He wasn’t sure he wanted anyone being sent for on his account. Perhaps Kili didn’t want life in the palace at all. Perhaps he preferred his fire moons and the freedom that came with them.

“I don’t know. I didn’t catch it when she first arrived, and it seemed silly to ask for it later, when we danced” he lied smoothly, without batting an eyelid.

Thorin gaped.

Fili stood his ground, metaphorically. If he was going to marry the person he loved, he was going to do it because they loved him back and not on the orders of a King, damn it. Somehow. This was going to happen. He just needed to… aid his spell a little.

Thorin sat down heavily next to him on the stairs. “Do not fret, nephew. We will find her. At least we have this –“

He took the slipper from Fili’s hands and stared, mesmerised, at an exquisite, petite crystal pump which seemed to fracture the moonlight like a diamond.

Fili stared too, at a shoe which changed between one glance and another, and silently kicked himself for not having insisted on a proper contract when he’d had the chance. With a Sorceress no less!

He had no idea what the terms and conditions of this romance were.

---

Dis’ son arrived with the first rays of sunshine and missing one shoe. He looked exhausted.

“Well, how was it? Did you get to meet the Prince?” she issued a quick-fire round of questions.

Kili threw her a Look and in the warm, golden rays hitting his face at a low angle, he looked like nothing less than a King himself.

“Like I left a piece of me behind,” her son told her and slipped heavily off the wagon, throwing her the reins.

---

#gatheringfiki #au #fiki #linane is amazing

11 notes · View notes